"Wish I had a river - that I could skate away on"

None of the weather woes (woahs?) are helped by the fact that I live across the street from Bressie the know-it-all nanny. It's bad enough that I have to compete with other first time moms, but nannies too? After a marathon drive to the grocery store through the snow and traffic (imperative, or I wouldn't have gone), I was putting the groceries away and letting Buck "shovel" the driveway. Enter Bressie and Brent - her 3 year old charge. They were creating a "snow mountain" in their front yard while their yellow lab searched for the ball they were hiding from him in the snow. Laughter - frivolity - a good time was being had by all.
So, of course, Bressie yells over - "Hello, Daniel! Do you want to come and play?"
Now, at this point, I don't remember Bressie or the boy's names. Buck and I are wearing regular jeans and thick jackets, but not snow clothes. And Buck sorely wants to "go say hi to the doggy." Since I am "nominal-mommy" (neither good nor bad) I ignore my melting ice cream and walk Buck across the street.
I long ago got over the taboo against asking people their names if I couldn't remember - particularly people I see only twice a month. So, I asked Bressie (she remembered our names of course) and complimented her on remembering Buck and my names. Her response, " Yeah, I think it's the most important thing we can do for people is to remember their names." Uhhh...I'm not totally sure I agree with that statement, but I still saw the truth of the importance of knowing people's names, so I immediately countered with dead air and began talking about the fun they were having.
Now, I love to ski and snowboard. I own the gear, I enjoy the cold weather when it's accompanied by fun, but Bessie has taken this to a new level. She went on to explain to me that she snowboards every weekend and that she is going to start taking Bret (Brent - I'll never be able to remember the most important piece of info for them) skiing as more snow comes. Bressie observes: "So many nannies don't even own snowpants! Even one of the moms who comes over to play doesn't own snowpants. I ask her how she is going to play in the snow with her children? They own snowpants, but she doesn't." At this point, I am imagining that the frozen lasagna I bought (to poison my husband and child, I'm sure) is turning into a gooey, meaty mess in my mudroom, so I use the "no snow pants" monologue as an out.
"Yeah, I really wish we had snow pants." I lie - and then pull Buck away from the dog.
Buck didn't even want to play in the snow - he just wanted to pet that freekin' dog.
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