Elitist

Man, was it hot today. I thought I'd get seriously to work on the various blivets that are plotting a takeover of the house, but I ended up spending most of the day in a torpid, useless condition. I revived slightly toward evening and worked a bit on the kitchen, after which I repaired to the basement with Grant to watch the replay of the Sox game. I decided it was high time to start swatching for my first attempt at a triangular shawl, so I found some yarn and set about it.


I've long maintained that acrylic yarn has its place. It's tough and durable, not to mention generally less expensive than natural fibers. The afghans I crocheted as a newlywed remain alive and well, having survived numerous trips through the washer and dryer. My 15-year-old niece still sleeps with the baby blanket I made her all those years ago, from which she refused to be separated at the age of three; it's in remarkably good shape, considering, although admittedly it's now mostly gray instead of white.

And, of course, the cheapest acrylic is the ideal material for random swatching, when I don't really know what I'm after, and I'm likely to rip, and rip again, and yet several more agains, before getting to what I want. I wouldn't ask laceweight to stand up to that: I'll probably do a swatch or two just to make sure that the yarn and the pattern work together, but only after I have a pattern.

As I work with this honest and unassuming green yarn, however, I find myself muttering under my breath. It's so sticky, so plastic, so... acrylic.

Good grief. Have the priestesses of the Church of Natural Fibers finally turned me into an unregenerate yarn snob? Well, no... I fear I got there all on my own.