I know you envy my eyebrows.

It happens once, maybe twice, a year. Last weekend I walked to Wawa, approached the intimidating kiosk, and bought myself Powerball tickets – thoroughly annoying the line of lottery regulars accumulating behind me because I can never seem to remember how to do it and my $10 bill wasn't very crisp and refused to feed properly.

We only play when the payout reaches $250 or more million dollars. Which makes absolutely no sense. Honestly, I would rather quietly win a much smaller prize and go about my business than some crazy big jackpot that lands me on the local news holding a giant check.

It's all so silly. Jon and I have an action plan in place should our numbers be called. It's more like I engage him, and then continue to bug and bug, until he finally answers my questions like, "What is the first thing we'll do?" He says, move to Florida to establish residency because it will save us several million in taxes. To which I say, if I'm winning that much money, I will gladly pay several million in taxes to not move to Florida. Maybe Pennsylvania can finally address its pothole problem.

We do agree on giving to charity (ovarian cancer, of course, and abused animals because there is nothing sadder) and buying a simple beach house at the Jersey shore, only the day of the simple beach house is long gone. Upper middle class Americans were once able to get a cute family cottage a few blocks from the ocean, but now you need to have had some Google shares laying around circa 2004. It kills me. I lived in Avalon for a few summers when property was still reasonable. If I could go back in time, I would find me (probably sleeping on the beach procuring the severe sun damage that plagues me today), shake me awake and demand that I find some money (beg, borrow) and buy beach block because the market is going to soar like you wouldn't believe. Then, I would yell "Google!" And then I would switch out the baby oil with SPF 50.

Besides the beach house, I would also for sure have a cleaner come weekly. In fact, I might get myself an Alice-type maid who lives in a tidy apartment off the kitchen and cooks all meals, packs all lunches, and completes all science fair projects with "the children" while I sip cocktails on a chaise lounge. She could also help Lu with her fourth grade math that is now entirely over my head.

And I would travel.

But alas, we didn't win. Somebody in far off Rhode Island was luckier. I hope they truly need it and are good, stable folk that will invest well. Unlikely. Lottery winners tend to buy meandering mansions and fill them with genuine medieval knight armor and a collection of Bentleys before landing in a foreign prison for something dodgy.

Besides winning the lottery of life (good husband, healthy kids) I haven't won much. In college, my name was drawn by a Mary Kay consultant who visited our campus and gave me a free makeover. I was too young/naive to realize this was a marketing scheme. The joke was on her because college kids have no money and the grunge years were primarily make-up-less. She told me my eyebrows were my best feature. How terrible is that? Not my bright smile or flawless complexion. My un-plucked, grungy eyebrows.

Jon's been to Vegas many times but never won significant money. Probably because he seeks out the $5 tables for maximum entertainment value while still enjoying unlimited free drinks. (I've been to Vegas once and my only windfall was Edy nine months later.) Jon claims to have never won much of anything besides a golf bag in a raffle. A really nice golf bag. Too nice for his skill level. So it's been sitting in our garage for twelve years.

In full disclosure, Jon did win every election or award offered in high school. He was homecoming king and was voted class secretary... with a broken arm. You can argue that these wins were based on merit and not chance, but they are still wins and totally trump my Miss Tadpole crown from the Flourtown Swim Club Queen Mermaid Pageant 1977. My dad was pool manager. I had a tail up. This is me awaiting my sash and bouquet of roses.

We all have "chance-like" things happen that seem one in a million. I've had several. Like the time I stated out loud that I had never seen a shooting star, looked up and saw a shooting star. Or like when I searched and searched for the right set of plates for my new plate rack. I finally settled on a green and white paisley pattern. I glanced the register and was confused when my name popped up. The design was called "Gretchen." What are the chances?

And talk about an outside possibility, in just a few weeks I will be thinking of my mom who was born on leap year 1940. Birthdays are hard when you lose someone close. It's nice if you can ignore it for three years, but when that fourth year rolls around it's doubly difficult, no quadruply. My mom would have been 18. I remember when I turned 11, she was still 10 and I thought that was very cool – even if I didn't understand the impressive odds behind it.

What have you won in your life? What would you do if you hit a big jackpot? What are your thoughts on chance?