a letter

dear acrylic needles,

in the past, i have been overheard dismissing you as worthless and juvenile. i've even made claims as to your perceived deadliness on an airplane. i am sorry.

i never tried you before i derided you. i overlooked the good in you, assuming you were nothing more than a cheap plastic copy of the knitting needles i held dear. oh, i had no idea.

now, we will have such fun together. the yarn slides over your length with such a sensual grace that i could very well believe you to be the sexiest needles i have ever used, and this includes those sassy addi turbo numbers. they have the grace, certainly, but none of the lightness and ease of handling that you do, my newfound love.

your lightweight nature is easy on my wrist, even with half a foot of yarn draped across you, and the sharpness of your points ... i shiver. truly, we were made for each other. we shall knit long into many evenings.

you even manage that tacky eyelash yarn without tugging. is there anything you cannot do? alas, i have yet to find one of your number in a lovely US2 or 3. Where could they be hiding?

never will i buy another aluminum needle, my dear. you have won my heart, my yarn, my wrist. and the TSA says you have won them over as well, provided you look non-threatening enough.

i was a fool to speak of how easy it would be to plunge you deep into someone's eye. your aluminum counterparts would never flinch at such use, but you, translucent pastel masterpieces, are much too lovely to tempt a terrorist.

but soft! i must say no more of these gruesome matters, for if this is intercepted before my flight, and wrongly interpreted, as has been another love of mine, our bond will be severed by the security checkpoint guards.

oh my darling! rest well tonight, for tomorrow ... we tango. grrrrrrrowlllllll.