My mother liked to work with her hands. She was one of the fastest typists I'd ever seen, my dad's mom aside. (Both of them could do over 120 wpm with a very low margin of error. My best time's only about 90, and this only came with concerted effort.) Was a technically excellent pianist as well. Her favorite handwork, though, was sewing. Like her mother, she was a professional-level seamstress who would take in work from friends and relatives to add to what she earned from the day job. A lot of what she taught me, in fact, was to help alleviate backlog in that business. (This has served me well in the past - namely in college when I'd take in simple repair work for friends because I didn't want to see them be rooked by the tailors on campus. Actually don't enjoy doing it, though.)
She could also knit. I don't think she enjoyed it as much as sewing, as I don't see the same technical level in the finished objects. She did have the basic stitches, casting off and binding off down, though.
Stuffed in a closet (with her old typewriter and my Raggedy Ann doll, in fact), I found an unfinished something:
How long ago did KMart stop carrying their own brand of (surprisingly not squeaky) acrylic yarn? We're really dating ourselves here.
There were two 5' by 10" brown strips, 1 1/2 of the same in beige and a couple gauge swatches. There appears to be enough yarn to make several more, though how many I'm not sure. I think she was intending to sew enough completed strips together to make one (or maybe two?) afghans together. Not for her, though, as the color scheme doesn't go with anything in her house. Wonder who it or they were for?
Double bagged the pieces and the yarn as it all stunk (and continues to stink) of smoke to bring home. It's going to be interesting to see how I can wash the pieces still on needles and stitch holders without either damaging the wash machine or unraveling the work. Absolutely can't work on them in their current state, though.
Kind of makes me sad, as I found a few other such abandoned projects (always) crammed into corners or closets. Also, though we'd not been speaking for nearly a year, I'd started on a gift for her that she'd asked for a while ago: a burgundy colored shawl.
The shawl was unraveled in a fit of rage / frustration around the holidays. Guess I can finish the afghan, though.