Exhausted, exhilarated and anxious about the massive year to come
When I was asked to write a diary for The Spectator, I was honored, yet afraid. I question whether I would have anything interesting to discuss or will I just have to share the perils of raising a ten-year-old boy? Then I realized that the holidays in Palm Beach make for a very busy time, plus I would be spending time with my liberal in-laws, which always makes for an elevated level of drama, to say the least. The drama came early on Thanksgiving when I was required to board a plane to Boston at 6 a.m. The double masker next to me, who was also anxiously clutching the largest bag of masks I have ever seen, asked to be moved, as she was “afraid to sit next to an unsanitary dog.
