I'd Like to Be a Yarn Snob....

... but I'm not.

I take that back, but in theory only. I'm generally a pretty prolific knitter, and also cheap, which pretty much precludes any hopes I had for yarn snobbery.

I will say this: I live vicariously innerwebs-style through OTHER yarn snobs. Oh, and disclaimer: I think of the term "yarn snob" as an endearment, not an insult! I don't want to go through my whole life without having pet Malabrigo, you know? But as yet, I've not bought any. When I shop for yarn, I look for different qualities depending on what project I'm intending to make, but despite my best intentions, yardage and price ultimately win out when it comes right down to it.

I also have an across the board rule when it comes to knitting for kids: WASHABLE. DRYABLE.

I love yardage so much that a few years ago I went on a chenille yarn bender via Ebay, and now have a literal warehouse of coned chenille yarn in my walk-in closet. I crochet, too, and despite the fact that I've made roughly one billion afghans from said chenille, its yardage has not decreased and the pile of cones has not shrunk in the least. That heap o'chenille has given birth to countless pillows, afghans and even three full-length bathrobes. Guess what? It's essentially useless for knitting. It twirls and twists and loops back on itself and becomes embroiled in an orgy of knots, all on its own. It doesn't matter if I turn the cone sideways, stand it up on the floor, or roll the yarn into balls--still it does this if I try to knit with it. Crocheting with it is fine, and all of the chenille I purchased is soft, lovely and colorful. It's just that--as usual---the dirt-cheap price and incredible mileage (yes, mileage, NOT yardage) got to me. I have a lifetime supply of the stuff. I could be a cat with nine lives and still never run out.

So, I have too much yarn. Does it keep me from wanting new yarn and BUYING new yarn? Nope. I loooooooooooooooooooooooooove yarn. I'm telling you, I want to be a yarn snob. I aspire to it. I've made a few forays into the dark world of fancy-schmancy yarns, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel great to put on a pair of hand-knit socks for which I paid $25.00 for the yarn. On the other hand, I also made socks out of a cone of Tamm machine knitting yarn, which I used for hand-knitting and which I bought at Goodwill for $1.99. Yeah, that's right: $1.99. This cone of machine knitting yarn is probably enough for 10 pairs of socks, if you don't mind them all being boring navy blue.

I like merino wool, silk, alpacaaaaaaaaaaa, mohair, angora, soy, bamboo, CASHMERE...

But if a baby is going to puke on it, I'm buying baby yarn in the craft department at Wal-Mart. That's all there is to it. I'm not rich and I HAVE to knit. It all boils down to logic, pretty much.

I'll spend half an hour filling my virtual shopping cart with luxury yarns only to empty it again with a click of my mouse.
I'm a sorry excuse of a yarn snob, but I'm really working on it. Send lottery tickets, please. :)

Despite the fact that I have comments enabled, in order to comment you need to actually click on the title of this (or any other) post. Sorry!

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