My maternal grandmother had chickens and for some reason, the flock was dieing. She got out the whiskey bottle and gave each a sip. Said she could easily tell which had or had not gotten their sip. Not another one died of natural causes. She had been raised by her grandmother who smoked a corncob pipe. (Her mother had died in childbirth.)
My fraternal grandmother was the quilter who introduced me to quilting when I was about 9. She and several ladies surrounded the quilt frame that was over the bed in the front bedroom. Gram was the piecer (I remember all of the turkey reds) and the ladies were helping by quilting. They offered me a needle and thread and I took a few stitches. --- I am sure they pulled my stitches out, but this is when I determined to one day I would learn to quilt. I took my first quilting class when I was 50. Haven't looked back.