Interlude with Pastry

Five years ago, much of my world as I knew it blew up. The college that I loved, where I was tenured, and where my husband, soon-to-be-famous non-racist Bret Weinstein, was also tenured, in the only town that our children had ever lived in, turned on us, spectacularly. In next week’s post, on Monday, the five year anniversary of the public melting down of the college, I will return to that era in writing.

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