Dr. Ruth's Daughter

My favorite book in college (that I was forced to read) was Boccaccio’s Decameron. Not only was it way sexier than anything else I had ever been forced to read, it felt like it combined history, romance and public health crises (my favorite) in a way that felt surreal. When would we ever watch the world implode from the far-away country, with little to do but dream about stories from happier times?

“Aha!” you’re thinking. “This is a 2020 pandemic blog. When the world seemed to cave in on itself, much as it did in 1300s Florence.”

Well, that would be way too on the nose, folks. Sure, the pandemic sucked, but remember all that cheering for first responders, and that awesome tiger documentary we all rallied behind?

This is a January 2025 blog.

My home city is on fire.

Greenland is for sale?

The newspaper is a Tim Burton script, set in the 1940s, with Quentin Tarantino directing.

Aliens are trying to save us, but they are starting with New Jersey.

There are no vaccines for this. No tigers to snack on Floridians for our national amusement.

This blog is my Decameron, but instead of the sex, enjoy complaints about parenting, communication styles and snack foods.