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.” Mind you, my eight-pound Poodle-Shih Tzu rescue, Lady Sandwich, just received a grooming more expensive than a trip to a Beverly Hills salon and demands a full paw washing after every walk.
The airline moved Ms. Mask, accommodated me and Lady Sandwich, profusely apologized, and now it was time for turkey with the libs. The dinner was filled with gluten-free stuffing, sanctimony and pronouns, but I succeeded in staying above the fray because out of the corner of my eye on the large TV was an angel of peace, beacon of light and a true American treasure: Dolly Parton.
There she was, the most stunning Dallas Cowboys cheerleader the world has ever seen. The country music legend, seventy-seven years young, maintained my sanity while sending social media into a frenzy as she performed at the Salvation Army’s twenty-seventh annual Red Kettle Kickoff halftime show.
She was an arbiter of peace for all, who changed the subject from transgender rights and new variants to new definitions of beauty. To all, a silent night, surely the tryptophan helped.
The barrier between Thanksgiving and Christmas is as porous as that of Eagle Pass, and in the blink of a short eye and a flight home, it was time for Christmas and another fun, Jupiter, Florida tradition — Don Jr. and Kimberly Guilfoyle’s annual Holiday Boat Parade Party. The opposite of a low-key gathering, this fête was filled with multiple bars, top-notch sushi, dance-worthy DJs and 600 of your favorite conservative influencers, operators and celebrities. Of course, the forty-fifth president made an appearance, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I got some well-needed time with Santa and confirmed that I may be on an FBI watch list, but absolutely not on the naughty list.
As lit as this party was, I knew more lights were in my future for Chanukah; as a woman who converted to Judaism, the festival of lights is very important. I made from scratch latkes that I found to be sub-par, but were loved by my husband and son, so that’s all that matters.
One short week later was one of my favorite events of the year, Big Dog Ranch Rescue’s Freedom Paws Gala. Big Dog is the largest, no kill animal rescue in the world (and run by a huge patriot, Lauree Simmons). That’s from where the aforementioned Lady Sandwich hails; a gift for which my family and I are eternally grateful. Lara Trump and I co-host this event, and getting ready for an America-themed gala together was tons of fun and filled with many laughs. Far more exciting was the money we raised for dogs in need. Far less, the fact that my son almost had to go the ER after petting a cat and touching his eye at a competing party. I learned that many kids have undiagnosed cat allergies.
Just when I thought it was time to rest before the holiday, I realized it was time for one last patriotic celebration. I boarded a plane to Turning Point USA’s America Fest in Phoenix, Arizona. I have worked with TPUSA as a contributor for five years, and I am so grateful that I get to liaise with such inspired conservatives on a regular basis. Charlie Kirk, Matt Gaetz, Patrick Bet David, Tucker Carlson and even Rosanne Barr were in attendance and didn’t disappoint.
I am now exhausted, exhilarated and anxious about the massive year to come. In 2024, I pray that we can change the trajectory of the country to create a better world for our children. Until then, I will be cheering in the stands of the Philadelphia Eagles games praying that we can get the Birds to the Super Bowl . . . one victory at a time my friends.
Happy New Year!
