Enjoy The Small Stuff

I spent most of my day at work yesterday crying. Didn't break down into full-blown blubbering, but it was pretty darn close.

I was glad I skipped mascara.

The reason for the sob fest — my co-workers and I were judging a features writing contest and reading stories upon stories from some of the biggest and best newspapers around. The stories were unbelievable, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching. The dad who was shot multiple times — including through the head — but managed to live while his wife and two sons were murdered, their home set on fire. His teenage daughter had ordered the hits. Yet, he forgave and in fact begged for lenience for her and her cohorts. The young, vibrant mother of four who was burned over more than 80 percent of her body after a plane crash. This one made me cry the hardest as the reporter detailed her painful recovery and how her own children were scared of her.

Perhaps the most heart-shattering was the piece about the 6-year-old girl who suffered from schizophrenia. Her imaginary rat and cat friends were real to her and they taunted her to kill herself. She'd tried more than once. Her parents moved into side-by-side apartments to protect her younger brother, but at least that way, she could be home and not locked in a mental ward. She was 6.

Aside from the burning desire to hug the stuffing out of people after reading all that, I felt both guilty and grateful for my little life. Only hours before I was obsessing over finding the perfect, sheer silk cardigan that doesn't come with a triple-digit Winter Kate price tag (damn you and your great but expensive clothing, Nicole Richie).

So, today do what I'm doing — count your blessings. Hug your favorite people. Find joy in the little things, like finding a lady bug on a fat peach. It's a good thing to have worries like what skirt goes with what top and whether or not it's time to ditch a battered pair of shoes.