I'm not wearing my glass slippers today. Not even one of them. It's a no ball to go to, mopping sort of why don't any of my pants fit right kind of day.  I did manage to throw my "in desperate need of a trip to the salon" hair in a ponytail.  I secured my unruly bangs with a bobby-pin and quickly applied my makeup; particularly my new lipstick, in hopes that it would distract from my hair while I had to get out of the house.  Only I'm not sure it works like that.

Jason had a lunch date planned with the girls and I was in a rush to take Rylie to him at work. From there they would pick up Hallie and enjoy their Father-Daughter time.  I'd had my own business to take care of until that business fell through.  So I became the mildly cranky lunch tag-along...the fourth wheel with bad hair and cheeky red lips.

While we ate, the flat screen overhead advertised the McGregor/Mayweather fight.  We watched, but not much was said while we scarfed down our lunch.  About the time we paid for our ticket the conversation had drifted to whether or not a girl (or a guy for that matter) should consider her boyfriend when deciding where she'll go to college.

Turning the conversation toward myself (and inadvertently toward my disheveled appearance) I proudly reminded her that I had a small scholarship to a school that I turned down just for the sake of sticking right beside my beau, her dad. I picked him over the school I'd planned on attending my whole life (although be it a small school that would have choked me in loans).

While my mind reminisced that sacrifice, it came back to our memory that her dad too had given up a scholarship to stick around with me. Jason received an appointment to West Point Academy in New York. Little did I know then that the admission process was extremely competitive and that this institution was so highly regarded.  I looked up the value of such a scholarship and learned that West Point cadetship was worth around $450,000 in 2009. That's half a million bucks.

Today it sunk in just how great a sacrifice he made for a girl who he would learn snores and who's made him one coconut pie their entire marriage 1. because she burned her arm pretty bad the first time and 2. because she doesn't even like coconut and 3. she's not a great cook in general.

Don't get me wrong.  This isn't an I'm not worthy post, but rather a Gosh I'm grateful kind of expression.  As irony would have it, I'd be reminded on the worst of hair days and on something like day eleven of a slightly sour attitude. While bragging about a small gesture I made twenty-four years ago I was hit smack in the bad-haired forehead how undeservedly rich I am in love.

Jason still loves me in a grand sort of way when my hormones are off kilter and when the kitchen floor and my roots are neglected.  He loves me when I haven't hung all the laundry and when I speak sharply. I suppose he especially loves me then.

That's what love is, isn't it?  Giving even when there's not as much to get back. Looking right past the price tag and assigning value. Because I'm greatly loved I guess I can say I look like a million bucks.  That's what the story tells me. Even on bad hair days.  Well...at least half a million.

God's gifts put man's best dream to shame.  -Elizabeth Barrett Browning