Once a wool snob, always a wool snob. Except when I'm not...
I like wool. I mean, I really, really like wool. I like the way it feels, particularly if it's got some texture and body to it. I like the way it smells, I like the way it springs back after you pull on it or push it around, or twist it into some bizarre cabled what-have-you. So you can imagine my surprise and concern at being unable to put down this:
This is a 12-pointed star baby blanket for my friend's new baby (25 days old tomorrow), and it is crocheted (sorry JoAnna!) in a yarn that is (gasp!) 80% acrylic. I await an explanation from one of you wise folks out there in the computer, because I am at a loss to explain my complete and utter addiction to neverending double crochet (US terminology) in babymelter petroleum product yarn.
Bah. My inner Luddite is perturbed.
This is a 12-pointed star baby blanket for my friend's new baby (25 days old tomorrow), and it is crocheted (sorry JoAnna!) in a yarn that is (gasp!) 80% acrylic. I await an explanation from one of you wise folks out there in the computer, because I am at a loss to explain my complete and utter addiction to neverending double crochet (US terminology) in babymelter petroleum product yarn.
Bah. My inner Luddite is perturbed.