I Really Wasn't Kidding In That Last Post.....

About the Sock Fairy (aka my disgusting husband) leaving dirty socks on the floor, not unlike Hansel and Gretel leaving a bread crumb trail to make it home.....minus the fact that bread doesn't smell like rancid cave-aged cheese that's been fermenting in cotton for hours on end.

The proof is below.  This was the only clear shot that I got, unfortunately.  The other ones had the cats cautiously going up to sniff them, then running away crazed as if they bit them on the ass.  Hell, they probably HAD bit them, for all I know-those bad boys can probably get up and walk all on their own.

Hopefully #370 will balance out the insanity.  Please.

370

370.

It's just a number, right?  It could be anything-how many dusty pennies are rolling around in your car, the oven temp you need to set to make those yummy and not-really-helping-the-diet chocolate chip cookies you bought in that sugar low you were conveniently having at the supermarket, the amount of time in seconds it took to yell at your husband for leaving his dirty socks YET AGAIN on the floor in the living room.  Just three little numbers.

Not for us.

It's our donor's number.  Our match.  The person we've been waiting for.  And she's everything that we could have hoped for in a match.  No, she doesn't look exactly like me (and who will, really) but she looks like she could be related to me, and she's a proven donor.  When I got the call to come in and look at the pictures (we get to see pictures if the donor allows) that she sent in I felt an indescribable calm, like I knew that this was the person and that this would all work out.  And it was definitely worth the wait.

Ask, and you shall receive.

We're on our way, bitches!  BOO-YA!