People at work are aware that I quilt. A collegue in the department next door brought me a shoebox of patches and material. Apparently, this is something that her Mom amd her Mom's friends started and never finished. My colleague's mom died 12 years ago, she must have been too young. She asked me if I could finish it. If you've been following this blog you know me as the person who is working on a quilt with a dead baby in a coffin in it, not to mention a person who loves grave stones. This kind of thing is not my cup of tea. In fact, the cuteness of this late 80's country crap makes me want to barf.
That's not the point though. Of course I agreed to do it, because people made this with their hands. Someone who is dead had a vision for this, and they could not finish it. It will be pretty easy for me to put this together, and the person who will own it says I can take as long as I like. I also have free range to do it the way I like. I can handle that. She wants to pay me, I'm not really interested in making money from it. I told her to buy me lunch, and she skoffed. We'll work it out later.
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