My nine year old daughter has quite a collection of stuffed dogs. So many dogs, that for Christmas we bought her a REAL dog bed to put in her room. There are Shepherds, Collies, Poodles, Terriers, Huskies, and Bulldogs…just to name a few. The collection is so big that we’ve lost count. But, there is one…just one…that holds a special place in my daughter’s heart. One little dog so dirty and tattered that it’s almost unrecognizable. Her name is Darling, and I think she was a Beagle in her previous life at the Hallmark store.

Sometime in November, when we were cleaning out toy boxes and organizing rooms to make space for Santa’s bounty, Darling got lost. We looked everywhere for her. Furniture was moved, closets were emptied, and toy boxes were thoroughly searched. I had come to the conclusion that my five year old son had probably thrown Darling into a Goodwill bag, but I didn’t dare tell my daughter that.

Last night, just before I tucked her into bed, we made another attempt to locate Darling. We looked under my daughter’s dresser and behind her desk, and I finally told her that I was afraid we had shipped Darling off to Goodwill. Her eyes filled with tears and she said, “NOOOO!” I told her that I just didn’t know where else that dog could be.

Then I asked her if she had ever looked in my room. She and my son watch TV in there sometimes, and I told her it was possible that her ornery little brother could’ve thrown Darling under my bed. So we looked among the shoe boxes, stored-up summer clothes and dust bunnies, but with no luck. Then I looked behind my bed…and, THERE SHE WAS. Lodged between a windowsill and my headboard, crumpled up and barely visible.

When I said, “I found her!”, my little girl dropped the clothes she had been holding and ran over and grabbed her dog. And the tears which had been welling up, freely flowed down her cheeks. She was blubbering with joy, and I was so happy for her that I started crying. A grown woman, crying about a filthy, stuffed dog with spots of fur that are hardened with what is most likely syrup. I never would’ve thought that I’d be happy to see Darling too.

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There has been an abundance of reporting on the Hollywood writer’s strike lately. Because of the strike, last night’s Golden Globes, which is usually a spectacular, star-studded affair, was hosted from a podium. The lavish dinner and drinks were never made, the designer gowns and jewels stayed stashed in their closets, and America was left with an awards ceremony resembling a college lecture. Though, it’s likely that an economics dissertation would’ve been more interesting.

But for me, last night was a wonderful evening of television. Because, my name is Momo and I’m a reality TV-oholic.

One of my favorite reality shows is The Amazing Race, which airs on Sunday nights. This is why I had no idea that The Golden Globes were being presented homeroom style.

The Amazing Race is a race around the world. It puts pairs of people in situations where they’re forced to complete tasks indigenous to the locale. While in Africa, they had to milk camels, and in Croatia, they had to row boats through the Adriatic Sea. You get the idea. The competitors are usually exhausted from flying from continent to continent, and there’s almost always a language barrier. The grand prize is $1 million, and these people WANT THAT MONEY. This race is like watching the human being’s equivalent of a train wreck.

Last night’s show saw the departure of Jen and Nathan, a couple who ran the race to see if their relationship could withstand the pressure. Considering that they admit not being able to stand each other when they first met, and that they’ve broken up numerous times in the last couple of years, this was a lofty goal. Jen was known for her kind words to Nathan like, “I hate you with a passion” and “I can’t stand you right now”. They were eliminated when they were the last team to arrive and check in with the host, Phil Koeghan.

The show is now down to the last three pairs of contestants, who will compete in the final leg on the season finale. Let’s meet the finalists…

This is Ron and Christina, a father/daughter team who are trying to bond. It seems Ron wasn’t around much while Christina was growing up, and when he was finally ready to play Dad, Christina was busy getting her degrees from Duke AND Princeton.

This is TK and Rachel. They are dread-heads, and are all about peace and harmony. TK never raises his voice, despite Rachel’s dumb mistakes. Of all the stops on the race route, I believe Amsterdam was their favorite.
This is Nicolas and Donald. A Grandson/Grandfather pair. Don is the oldest competitor ever to make it to the final three. And, despite being 45 years older than his grandson, he has taken on some of the more strenuous tasks, such as riding in an underwater Jeep, and lifting heavy rocks. All while his grandson stands nearby with words of encouragement like, “Pick up the pace there Don”.

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Clear signs that I’m getting old…

* I get mad when my paper isn’t on the doorstep by 7:00 AM

* I scan the obituaries in said paper

* I get excited that the grocery store has Super-Double-Coupons

* The subject line in the e-mails I send to my friends no longer say things like “party” or “BYOB”, but instead say things like, “Fiber”, “Shredded Wheat” and “Lactose Intolerant”

* In 10 years, my daughter will be nineteen

* I know the phone number to my pharmacy by heart

* My older sister is a grandmother

* I turn on MTV and say things like, “What is this crap?”

* After playing on the floor with my kids, I make odd, and quite audible, noises when I get up

* And lastly, because I can relate to this…

Three ladies were discussing the travails of getting older. One said, “Sometimes I catch myself with a jar of mayonnaise in my hand while standing in front of the refrigerator. I can’t remember whether I need to put it away, or start making a sandwich.”

The second lady chimed in with, “Sometimes I find myself on the landing of the stairs and can’t remember whether I was on my way up, or on my way down.”

The third one responded, “Well, ladies, I’m glad I don’t have that problem…knock on wood.” Then she rapped her knuckles on the table and said, “That must be the door, I’ll get it!”

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When I was dropping off my son at pre-school this morning, he pointed to a heavy-set lady, with white hair and a red hat. When he sticks that finger toward someone, I know something bad is about to be said, but I couldn’t hurry him along despite my best efforts.

Now he’s starting to give multiple put-downs, because as he was pointing at this woman, he said, “Look Mom! There’s Santa’s brother!”

I can’t decide what’s worse…being insulted by a five year old, getting called a man, or being told that you resemble a jolly old elf.

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