Thoughts on the Emmy Award Nominations...

By Melanie Lynne Hauser

Well, dang. Last Thursday was a pretty crummy day. I woke up only to find that, once again, I did not receive an Emmy Award nomination.

Really, I’m disappointed. Best Performance by a Middle Aged Woman Trying to Fit Into Low Rider Jeans? Why, I thought I was a shoo-in for that nomination. How about the category of Best Adapted Permission Slip Signature? I was robbed! Best Original Excuse For Not Buying Your 16-year-old A New Car Because You're Tired of Reminding Him That You're Poor? I SO owned that category.

But seriously, folks. My realization that I will not, in all probability, ever get to dress up in a designer gown and be accosted by Ryan Seacrest on the red carpet has me pretty down. It seems that, lately, there have been a lot of realizations like this — for instance, it’s probably too late for me to win the Olympic Gold Medal in Women’s Gymnastics. Or represent the Great State of Illinois in the Miss America pageant. Or win that prize for the best new author under the age of 40.

Life is about little deadlines like that, and I’m passing some of them at terrifying speed, and it’s bumming me out.

Just yesterday, my husband and I came to a pretty sober conclusion regarding some of the plans we had for our house. We always thought this small house would, eventually, be a much nicer, slightly larger house. When we moved in we accepted its flaws gratefully but there was always the notion that “one day” we’d fix them. The garage is a pet peeve of Hubby's. It’s not a garage, really; more like a bomb shelter built into the backyard and it leaks so terribly that you can’t store anything in it, and the foundation’s so cracked you can’t drive a car on it. But we always knew that one day we’d tear it down and get a new one. Same thing with air conditioning. We don’t have any. Not Central Air, anyway. But one day…oh, you know the drill.

Well, yesterday we sat down with bills, and we looked ahead, to college tuition payments for not just one son, but two, and we realized that “one day” had come and gone. The kids have fully taken over with their unreasonable desire to continue their education (not to mention their ongoing habit of needing twenty bucks whenever they see us). Leeches!

And just like that, we accepted — not that gracefully; I believe several cans of beer were opened and wept into — that this was it. It’s not going to get any better than this; in fact it will probably be all downhill from here. Just like my quest for Olympic Gold, we were suddenly past the expiration date for Dream House.

So Academy of Television Arts and Sciences? Let me just say, next year I should be a lock for Best Performance by a Pre Menopausal Woman Pretending to be Happy She Had Kids Because Who Needs Air Conditioning in Chicago in the Middle of July, Anyway?