# 332: Grandma Kaye

In this issue: Ten years ago I bought and tore down a burnt out house and made a garden; What I'm Reading, and Announcing a Live Substack Chat with Rachel Ciordas and me on Celiac life for a baker.

May 13, 2025

Save the Date

In honor of Celiac Awareness Month join me for a chat with Rachel Ciordas of Next Level Gluten Free! Rachel is an inspiring gluten free baker and food writer. We will be in conversation about how a celiac disease diagnosis changed our lives, and how we’ve both adapted and grown as bakers and people in the years since. We’ll get together LIVE on Substack on Thursday May 22nd at Noon Pacific, 3 PM Eastern, 8 PM BST, 9pm CEST.

Grandma Kaye

“I’m Grandma Kaye. I’m almost 90 years old and I know a thing or two.” These were her first words to me the day I moved into my cottage in 1999. A tiny bright-eyed woman, Grandma Kaye had lived in the house next door for decades. She seemed to know everyone on my block and everything about them, too. We had a pleasant “over the fence” friendship. I always said “Hello” when she was hanging out her laundry to dry. I brought her a pie every once in a while which she always seemed to appreciate.

Grandma Kaye’s husband was long gone by the time I got there and, according to the daughter of my across-the-street neighbor who once showed me an old yellowed newspaper clipping, it didn’t sound like he had been a very nice fellow. Apparently Grandma Kaye’s husband got in to an argument with her dad Bill, went home, came back with a shotgun and shot Bill straight through the hand somehow missing bones, muscles and ligaments. She went on to recount that her dad Bill chose not to press charges against Grandma Kaye’s husband because “he’s all she’s got and how are her kids going to eat if he’s in jail?”

As Grandma Kaye got older she could no longer live alone. At 93 she was moved to her daughter’s house and a grandson moved in to her house next door to me. Trying to do a neighborly welcome, I brought over a pie but was met with the words, “I don’t like pie.” For that first year we had a nodding relationship. Once he offered to mow the alley strip behind my house where my trash and recycle cans are. I think Grandma Kaye would have liked that. But over the years things changed.

My neighbor didn’t think twice about running his chain saw on a Sunday morning at 6 AM or Wednesday night at 11 PM. The property became an eyesore—a junkyard and a car “chop shop” a term that was new to me. More people moved into the house. There was loud music and lots of yelling. Cars would come staying for just a minute or two and police showed up at all hours of the day and night. That’s when I learned the term heroin flop house. Her grandson told me that he had a prescription for medical meth. (Is there such a thing?)

Once I came home to find one of the “residents” sleeping in the little guest house on my property and later I saw her peering through my front windows. I called the police on both occasions. The big kicker was when teaching on the East Coast I received a phone call alerting me that Grandma Kaye’s house was on fire. When I returned from the trip I found they still were trying to live in it even though the inside of the house was burnt out and the city had posted a condemned sign. I had had enough.

One day I saw a For Sale for 40k sign tacked to the outside wall with a phone number. I looked at my savings account to see if there was any possible way I might be able to buy it. I had enough. I called the number, identified myself as the neighbor next door. “Yah, what do you want?” replied Grandma Kaye’s daughter. “I’m offering full price, today only, for your property.” Her tone changed very quickly and she said she would get right back to me. When she called back she told me that her son who had been living in the house said that there was $6000 worth of useable material there and he either wanted it or I could pay $6000 more. I told her if her son wanted all that stuff, we could adjust the price down. This didn’t please her at all but I really wanted to be done with this nightmare. We settled on two thousand more for a total of 42k. A good friend who is a real estate agent helped me through the process and, in a matter of weeks, I was the owner of a run down burnout shell that needed to be torn down but there were hoops to jump through before Demo Day could happen which you can see here. ⬇️

Today it looks a heck of lot different than it did when I bought it ten years ago. The house is gone and the scary neighbors, too. Now there is a beautiful vegetable garden, young apple trees I planted from scions, a wood burning sauna made completely out of recycled materials, and a repainted garage Duncan uses as a workshop.

I hope Grandma Kaye would like the changes but I especially hope that she would be happy that I kept the beautiful pink rhododendron that blooms each May in the corner of my vegetable garden. I call it “Grandma Kaye” after her.

Grandma Kaye in full bloom in the garden today.

What I’m Reading

A Three Dog Life: A Memoir by Abigail Thomas

Hands down this is one of the best memoirs I have ever read. The life Abigail Thomas and her husband created was shattered when he was hit by a car causing brain damage. From then on his memory of his past life disappeared and he lived completely in the present for the remainder of his days. If I can say one more thing about this book it is, Read It.

A link to Abigail Thomas’ Substack newsletter is below.

Stand By! I have been adapting and baking lots of gluten free recipes recently with great results and look forward to sharing both gluten free and gluten full versions with you soon.

And be sure to join Rachel and me LIVE on Substack on Thursday May 22nd at Noon Pacific, 3 PM Eastern, 8 PM BST, 9pm CEST as we chat about how celiac has changed our lives.

Link to Full List of Recipes