BLIZZARD! And not the DQ yummy kind.

Like the rest of the east coast of Newfoundland I woke to the cheery news that Environment Canada had issued a weather advisory for the Bonavista and Avalon peninsulas for tonight and into tomorrow night. A blizzard. And to just make it clear just what we're talking about here, here's the link to the advisory : http://dd.weatheroffice.ec.gc.ca/bulletins/alphanumeric/20120203/WW/CWHX/09/WWCN16_CWHX_030900___60515    Scary stuff right?  Well, wikipedia defines a blizzard as this : A blizzard is a severe snowstorm characterized by strong winds. By definition, the difference between blizzard and a snowstorm is the strength of the wind. To be a blizzard, a snow storm must have sustained winds or frequent gusts that are greater than or equal to 56 km/h (35 mph) with blowing or drifting snow which reduces visibility to 400 meters or ¼ mile or less and must last for a prolonged period of time — typically three hours or more. Snowfall amounts do not have to be significant.

Gus, age 4 watching the snow fall!

 I am a big believer in Santa, unicorns and yes I'll admit it, I have even seen a UFO or two in my time... right Erin? But I am not a big believer in the forecasts issued for Newfoundland. Even the BEST meteorologists will tell you that there is just too many variables at play in our position out here in the North Atlantic to allow them to be perfectly accurate as to snowfall amounts, paths of the systems, wind speeds and durations of the storms.  We don't get upset. We just accept that they were wrong yet again, put on our big girl panties and drudge on. Now, despite their woefully inaccurate track record when the meteorologists issue a forecast for a blizzard a lot of people get really worked up. Not me. This is one retired school teacher who was disappointed a few too many times when my phone did NOT ring at 6:30 am with the joyous news of school closures.  Not getting ME again! I figure it will be windy tomorrow and we will get snow, but in the aftermath of the event, the reports will probably in all likelihood be that we were spared the brunt of the storm. Best case scenario.

I looked out at the brilliant sunshine today and wanted to scoff... I really did. I wanted to pretend that tomorrow was going to be a perfectly normal weekend Saturday morning. But alas, I failed miserably. I started to feel like maybe there might be something to this afterall. So off I went to the store and bought chocolate chips... gotta have a bit of chocolate during a BLIZZARD!  I stopped at Sears and picked up the bed skirt that I found that actually matches Ryan's bedroom (only been looking for 3  years!) and came home to settle in for the big event. Dusted, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom and then I spied the pretty new bed skirt.

Changing a bed skirt is freaking hard work. By yourself. Exhausting gut wrenching work. But my mind went on a rollercoaster ride like this: I want to reclaim the mattress that is on Ryan's queen sized bed, because it is so much more comfortable than the new one we bought for our bed three years ago, and if I am going to put on the bed skirt, now would be a great time to change the mattresses over and then I could change the sheets in our bed, because everyone knows rumpling up the clean sheets during a blizzard is a whole lot of fun, and if I am changing the sheets now would be a great time to switch out the mattress and even tho it will be hard work, if I wait for hubby to come home he will discourage me and say he'll do it tomorrow and by then the blizzard might be passed by and rumpling up the clean sheets is not nearly as much fun as it could have been in a blizzard, so I am going to do it NOW! PHEW. I was exhausted just thinking about it.

And these are the things I learned today:
 1. I am not nearly as strong as I was before I met my husband 8 years ago. OR... Mattresses have gotten a whole lot heavier in 8 years.
2. Queen sized mattresses need a lot of space and cannot occupy the same bedroom at the same time... Newton was right about that one!
3. Sliding Mattress A into the bathroom to avoid an encounter with Mattress B is in theory a good idea. But when Mattress A sort of collapses in the door way and gets jammed I am expressively happily overjoyed that
4. We just finished installing bathroom #2 in the basement.
5. And no matter HOW tired hubby is when he gets home on this Friday afternoon, he WILL be moving the mattresses the rest of the way into their final resting places. I am knackered.

SO happy blizzard weekend everyone! Hope you all have fun rumpling your sheets during the blizzard and if the blizzard just happens to pass you by? I hope you have fun rumpling your sheets.

Love from Lethbridge!


UPDATE: 3 pm the SAME day!

 I pushed through and got the mattresses moved! And I think the effort was TOTALLY worth it!! Any guesses how long it takes hubby before he notices  a) he's sleeping on a different mattress and b) the bedskirt now matches!???

Having a Blahy Time... The January Blahs

Well the good news is, they are about to end. It is, after all, the 27th of January as I write this and no matter how bad the month has been, there are only 4 days left to be " Blahy" !  Unfortunately next comes February with its usual snowstorms, winter colds, icy roads and even more blahy days. You will note that I did not use quotation marks on  "blahy" that time. I think we can all agree that it is a word that should work its way into our everyday lexicon. "How are you today?" could be the question, and this one word answer, "Blahy." would suffice, nay triumph! as the reply. No you aren't sick, no you aren't home hiding under the covers, but you're seriously not in sync with the weather, the boredom, the mindnumbing sameness of each day that is January and February in our fair land.

Now I can see people jumping up and down and shouting at their computer screens. There are those that enjoy winter (a shout-out to my stepson Mark here!) and are excited to see the snow fall and go to bed each night hoping for more! Alas I am not made of such fibers! I do enjoy a good snowshoeing venture on a sunny Saturday a couple of times a season, but beyond that winter just leaves me.... blahy.

Living next door to a Department of Highways depot can be blamed partially for this. Do you know that SALT and SAND are delivered in July!? For a week in July,  the trucks delivering the salt and sand to  the depot are non-stop. Their jake brakes and gears changing sing out to me, "Winter's coming! Winter's coming!" One memorable year, the boat must have been docked in Catalina (Bonavista?) and every single load of the traction giving substances was paraded along by our living room window. Fun. AND then when winter arrives every truck that leaves the depot and passes along by our house headed north, are still changing gears as they pass the window... How can you not notice?  Is there anything more blawy in the winter world than the sound of the plow blades clanging along as they wing back the snow after a huge snowfall? Probably not. While I am not driving in winter on snowy days, many of the people I love are... I can hear Ryan and Raisa chuckling all the way from the beaches in the Phillipines... and the thoughts of those people driving in winter...makes me SO blahy!

I hesitate bringing up the next blah-inducing item on my list. It is a touchy subject. Not with children... they love it. Not with teachers... they are thankful for it... But the rest of you out there? Probably not big fans. I'll whisper it quietly, SNOWDAYS,,,  So you're all thinking, but you were a teacher why are they blahy for you? WERE is the operative word here folks. Since retirement, I've tried to awaken and feel the same little lift on school closure days but I just can't muster it! The first year I followed the routine that 30 years of snow days had instilled in me... "Make this day COUNT!"  I would find a project that just couldn't be done after supper or was too messy to be handled on a weekend, and I would go to it! Closets got cleaned out, cupboards re-arranged, quilts got cut out and partially assembled, rooms got painted... not all on one day, but you get the drift.(Pardon my pun there)  Snow days were productive! Now I get 365 snow days a year. And I could be really really really productive, but instead snow days just remind me that  I am not as productive as I sh/could be. They tell me that I am aging and that things that I looked forward to with gusto, are now just a little too much for the old back to handle. ( Yes I meant to use "back" there... not "hack"... as many of you thought!) ... BLAH!

While we're on the topic of my back... let's trot out the next item. Limited mobility. There is NO one who will argue this one! Just the words can send shivers down my spine.  Limited mobility is a big reason that I am still on my weight loss journey. I don't want it. No way!  I want to give these hips and knees and my pretty little spine a fighting chance! Get that weight off. Stay active. Be flexible. MOVE! And along comes January. First Mr. January sends us a lovely coating of beautiful white fluffy stuff... and decides to wash it away. I'm with you so far, Mr. J. But wait! He doesn't wash all of it away, he leaves enough in the walkways and driveways that he then turns to solid sheets of ice. And then changes his mind once again, and sprinkles just enough white stuff to cover up the places where the ice is lurking below. Evil. Pure Evil.  Remember that snowshoeing I was talking about? Last Saturday we had enough snow to go for a little jaunt. Missy Erin skipped along on top of the snow like the little butterfly that she is. Her Mama and Step-Paul being twice her weight, had our snowshoes hit bottom every step... right to the ice that was EVERYWHERE on the trail. I fell twice... graceful backward tumbles that caused no damage, and I slipped forty or fifty times. You know those slips? One foot is firmly planted in the North snowbank and the other foot heads south faster than a plane full of Newfoundlanders headed to Cuba.  ( MY first analogy was a E/W one with a boatful of Tamil refugees but I thought this one was more politically correct). IN anycase, the splits are not on my list of approved stretches for the geriatric body. We headed home and built a snowman in the front yard. On the flat, in an area six feet away from the front step... safe territory for those with that damn limited mobility. BLAH!

So the blahs are here to stay... I will have my blahy days. Galaxy Radio is delivering at this very moment, Anne Murray's "Snowbird"... HONEST! I swear! And while the sentiments expressed in that classic song are so apt for a person of my ilk, "If I could you know that I would fly away with you..."
These lines will keep me here with my quilting, doll clothes and loving husband...limited mobility and all.
"Beneath this snowy mantle cold and clean
The unborn grass lies waiting for its coat to turn to green
The snowbird sings the song he always sings
And speaks to me of flowers that will bloom again in spring."

I hope Ryan and Raisa are enjoying their time in the hot sunny days of Manila! As for me? I don't necessarily love Lethbridge at this time of the year, but there is enough to love about Lethbridge the rest of the year to keep me smiling through the blahy days of winter!

Talk to you all later... I am off to shovel snow and daydream a little about those beautiful Lethbridge sunsets!

NO-vember

Today as I write this Ryan is on his way back to Newfoundland after fulfilling (within 5 weeks!)
a three year contract with Lester B. Pearson United World College. Three years ago he went there
as their eco-guardian/lighthouse keeper for Race Rocks. Anyone who has no idea what or where
Race Rocks is should take a look around this website:www.racerocks.com It is indeed a beautiful
place to be. I am pretty sure I couldn't live there for three years, but Ryan has always been a
tenacious free spirit and once a decision is made he will see it through!! And he did! In fine style!
Race Rocks is better for having played host to him! And I know the lightkeeper's house is a
WHOLE lot better than it was when he moved in! With pride I have followed his adventures,
exploits and accomplishments. But isn't that exactly what you'd expect from a momma who has
always been her son's biggest fan? I am happy to have him home even if it is just for two short
months before him and his lady love go to the Phillipines on yet another adventure!


There was another November, 8 years ago when there was a lot of flying happening in Ryan (and
Erin's life). First to Ottawa to celebrate their grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary, then back
to school and then home again to say good bye to their Dad. Such a sad time in their lives. In
OUR lives. Divorce when there are no children has to be a little like severing a business
partnership. "We had some good times but they're over now. Good-bye." But a divorce when
there are children means that no matter how animostic the parting, if you are human at all you'll
want what's best for the children so you will cooperate to the point of being bent into pretzel
shapes to make good on that pledge. You will share special events in your child's life whether
that means looking at each other across the table at Thanksgiving or being in same auditorium as
they perform in a Christmas Concert. You share and share as much alike as is humanly,
humanely possible. And in the end one of you will be left behind. Hopefully it will be when you're
both in your 90's and your great-great grandchildren are asked to sing at your funeral... but
inevitably one of you will really and truly become a single parent. And you don't have to share
anymore.


Well let me tell you, this is one woman who wishes she could share. It hasn't been an easy 8
years. I miss his quirky messages on the phone, his levelheaded responses to teenage angst and
acting up. I miss being able to say, "Ask your Dad." And I miss how he balanced my sometimes
neurotic over-protectedness. I miss my children's dad. And that isn't a bad thing. Missing him has
made me be a better person. I am grounded and I know what is important in life. Missing him has
made me try and be a better mother, tho' I have probably failed miserably in my attempts. I keep
trying. I can't be as funny or as quirky as he was. Or as reasonable and tolerant as he was. And I
don't think Ryan and Erin expect me to be. I know that for now just "BEING" is enough security
for them as they have both found love in their lives and are embarking and re-embarking on their
career journeys.

Two years ago I wrote the following and it is as true today as it was then.

November
by Lori O'Brien on Tuesday, November 17, 2009 at 2:36am
I wrote this tonight after talking to Ryan:

November is the time of year when the winds turn cold and demanding and begs you to pay
attention to their force - their strength. November strips all colour from the the trees and turns
those colours to brown crinkled bits of what used to be. November trees sway and bend doing
their dance of mourning, beckoning you to look and never understanding why you who just
weeks before stood in open mouthed wonder at their magnificence now regard them with such
disdain.

November is that time of year wedged between the bright days of fall and the clear shining days
of winter. Gone is the flurry of excitement of new beginnings at school and the comfort of family
sharing turkey and prayers of thanksgiving. Not yet do you feel the tug of Christmas excitement
and the anticipation of the jolly old man working his magic in your heart, no matter your age or
expectations. November is the transition of one season to another, however bleak that transition
may be.

November shouts at you to remember.Remember the bright days that have gone before, now just
a fading memory. Remember the fallen - the fallen leaves, the fallen soldiers, the fallen.
Remember the pain of letting go. November commands you to remember the desperation, the
anguish, the agony of being helpless and tormented and despairing. The pain stays firmly in
place, after years of remembering. The pain still there. Maybe not as sharp and wretching, but
unbearable just the same. Changing and evolving, but never easing.

November gives you time. Long evenings and slow starting mornings. Solitude and aloneness in
which to think. All the days of all the other months tumble by in rapid succession. You live those
days as they are given, but November turns you backward with your what ifs, and whys and if
onlys. November lays your questions at your feet and you're forced year 4, year 5, year 6 to wish
and wonder.

No answers.
No do overs.
No going back.
No comfort.
November.


I love you my babies,
Momma/Mama
XO

So as icy, windy November whips through our lives one more time, I hope they know that as

always, if they need me, I am here with lots of love to give... in Lethbridge.

A Little Less to Love in Lethbridge

Weigh-In time! But before we get there let's have a little discussion about distorted body image. Every test on every web site that I can find that offers such "tests" tells me that I hate my body. Some go so far as to tell me that I have a Disorder known as Body Dismorphic Disorder loosely translated as body hatred.

Did any of the tests ask me if I thought I had attractive features? Or are there parts of my body that I like? Or if not wearing revealing clothing has anything to do with age appropriateness? Not a one. They asked if I'd feel uncomfortable exercising in a group of attractive fit people. DUH! I felt uncomfortable last night doing stretches and learning a few exercises at TOPS amongst people who are struggling just as much as I am to shed a few pounds!!  They asked if I feel uncomfortable trying on clothing in a store. I HATE shopping. I wouldn't care if I was a size zero with Jennifer Lopez's bank account behind me... I would be uncomfortable. Period.

But back to the dismorphia... The first time I heard about such a "disorder" was on the Rosy O'Donnell show a few years back when she said that she doesn't see what other people see when she looks in the mirror. Like me, Rosy had bounced around a bit, losing weight and looking in the mirror and still seeing the body that she had left behind. Or gaining the weight and thinking, 'Gee I don't look too bad...'  It is not a fun affliction. Just as anorexic people can't see how thin they are, I couldn't see how big I was/am. It is ONLY through photographs that I can see myself. Mirrors are as distorting for me as if I was in a funny house full of distorting mirrors. And sadly for me, after a full year of working at this, I still see the same shape and size as I was 12 months ago. OK I know my ankles aren't nearly as pudgy as before. And when I look down when I am on the treadmill I now see my knees where a year ago I saw belly doing a lovely little jiggle joggle... but mirrors? Not my friends.

OK... as the ticker above my blog entry now reveals, I have lost, misplaced, dropped, shed, taken off, eradicated 26 pounds from my frame. Holy Butter Cream Icing! 26 POUNDS! I can't lift 26 lbs.  Well I can, but not easily! And I surely can't carry it for long! But my body was carrying it. Under protest! My knees creaked, my back hurt, my heart pounded and my lungs were asking what the heck I was doing to them... and that was just bringing in the groceries from the car!

The ticker tells a story... a journey. At times I thought it was a lost cause but I've made it this far. Another year will tell another story. I have 44 weeks of weigh-ins before Ryan and Raisa marry in August. That's another opportunity for the camera to tell me that I am doing OK on this journey. Until then I'll just forget about the  mirrors and remember that "Eating Less, Moving More and Drinking Lots "(of water!) is getting me to where I need to be.  I probably still won't enjoy putting on a swimsuit, trying on clothes or exercising amidst the athletic types, but I will be loving the Lori that emerged along the way to being a little less of me to love!

Suitcases

There have been a lot of suitcases in my life this summer. Not the same suitcases packed and unpacked over and over, but rather a collection of suitcases that were all unique in design but shared a kindredness. Owned by many different people, mostly weighing below the 50lb airline rule, there were backpacks, and duffle bags, soft sides and wheelers, black, blue, green and one huge yellow crate-like thing that  makes a great seat, but can't be used when flying because the damn thing weighs too much empty!

My husband says I am the most curious person he knows. No, he doesn't think that I am odd ( well maybe he does a little). He means that I am curious about things, people, places, thoughts, dreams; all the myriad objects and intangibles that make up my world! And suitcases make me very curious! Of course I know that they belong to the people who have packed them. I don't go rifling through their belongings seeking answers to the questions that pop into my mind uninvited (but invasive nevertheless).  But still I do wonder what the suitcase might hold, especially now with the one bag/50lb rule imposed upon the suitcase's owner. What did they deem important to carry with them? What process did they follow when choosing the items that were left behind.

I think I know where this mini-obsession with suitcases comes from. As a small child, my mother and I travelled on a fairly regular basis back and forth between home and St. John's for my medical appointments. I can remember being in Lethbridge train station watching the baggage handler (steward?) take suitcases out of the train's baggage car before lifting our bags into the car. There was a feeling a little kin of panic inside me that modern day psycho-babble might refer to as "separation anxiety".  And yet I wondered even at the young age of 4 what the other people were carrying. Were their items more interesting? Would I want to trade my tiny bag for that big black one over there? Or would I be disappointed with the items I had traded for?

And then there was the big leather suitcase that my Dad used. A construction worker who traveled all over the province and in hard years to other parts of Canada to do what he did best. Drive a huge road construction machine and help build highways, roads, airstrips. If he were going for a long trip the suitcase would be stogged tight with nearly everything he owned and he'd walk out to the driveway, leaving the most important thing he owned back in the house with us. His love.  But if it was just a short trip of one or two weeks ( how we loved the summers when he was home EVERY weekend!), Mom would pack the necessary work clothes, white t-shirts, grey work socks, handkerchiefs (red and blue printed kind, not those fancy white ones - they were kept for home!), and she'd also fold and include some plaid shirts for wearing in the evening after he "got a wash". Utilitarian things for a very utilitarian two weeks away.  And then if she'd been able to find some by trading with neighbours, she'd tuck in a few paperbook novels. Zane Grey. A good Western to read before turning in for the night.

Suitcases. I bet you all have one or two in a storage space somewhere in your home. Haven't looked in them for years, right? Erin and I opened a lot of boxes, tubs and suitcases when we cleaned out our basement in August. Somethings that were precious 8 years ago, were now deemed to be disposable. Sheet music for every song the Die Tichslers ever played had lost its poignancy. Christmas ornaments were sorted and culled and smiled over. We repeated the mantra, "Thank you for being in my life, GOOD-BYE" over and over and over. In one small suitcase we found every hair accessory that Erin had ever owned as a child. "little princess", "Mommy's Girl" and "ERIN" painted on little plastic bits and now sitting in a suitcase. All but forgotten. Unicorns and ribboned delights, every colour of the rainbow barrettes, buckles and bobbles, purchased to match her perfect little outfits. Somethings are just to precious to get rid of! The suitcases were emptied, the items tagged for sale, trashed or in some special cases (like hair accessories!) re-stored for posterity!

Suitcases. We have all had a few in our lives. I left for university with my three piece hard-sided burnt orange suitcases filled with practically everything I owned. I couldn't put the contents of two drawers into those bags today, but back then times WERE simpler and our wardrobes reflected that. And just like over the years our wardrobes have expanded so have all the emotional things that is referred to collectively as "our personal baggage" that we carry along with us on our journey through life. And while the airlines are limiting the amount of "stuff" we can travel with, there is no such agency looking after regulations to  help us limit the emotional weight that we drag through life with us. I  met a couple recently who have seemingly lived a charmed life. Married (they were high school sweethearts) and been together for 30 years. Good jobs. Two kids, both married and living in the same town. Grandkids, one of each. Both sets of parents, healthy and well and living in their own homes. No medical problems. Wow! Would I like to trade MY big black baggage for their tiny bags? Not a chance in hell! Just because I've led a less than charmed life, doesn't mean that I'd change a single item that I have packed in my big black bag. All the sadness and strife has made me who I am today. And no one has dictated that my baggage be what it is. I am loved and I love... deeply and without regret. I sleep at night. And I have learned to cope in hard times. Smile and be happy during good times.I have learned to let things go...  Because even though there are people who will offer you items to pack in your bag, it is your choice whether or not you accept them and how far you're willing to drag it along with you.

Today as I type this, the world is waking up to the 10th Anniversary of 9-11. And while media people talk of hope and resilience  and I like the most of the rest of the world, feel the pain all over again, I am also reminded of all the losses and gains of my own life during the past ten years. And to each and everyone of you, may today be  a day when you are able to open your suitcase and let a few things go. Be thankful for your own life, mourn your losses and make room in that  baggage for love, hope and compassion. I wish you all, peace and love... from Lethbridge.

So where's DUSO when you need him!?

""Hey DUSO Come on out..."  Anyone remember the song, the dolphin and what the acronym stands for? I was thinking about doing a little contest to see what I'd get back, but anyone reading this can in a few short seconds and the help of Google, find out and report that DUSO stands for "Developing Understanding of Self AND OTHERS. I capitalized that part for a reason that will become apparent later in this blog entry.

Right around the same time as I started teaching "regular" classes DUSO was packed away never to be seen again. In the Kindergarten classrooms around the province you might find in the puppet basket  a ratty, old, blue fake-fur Dolphin puppet but in all likelihood no one can even remember his name.  But to teachers and students through the 70's and 80's, DUSO was synonymous with religious education in the Integrated Schools of this province. There were several other puppets ( but none as loved as DUSO) and lots of colourful posters, taped stories ( and we all know how much fun it is to have another voice besides the teacher reading the book!) and a scripted lesson plan for the teacher to follow. DUSO made extensive use of listening, discussion, and dramatic play to focus on feelings, communication, and problem solving. Activities include stories, guided fantasies, puppetry, role play, and music.  In today's pedagogical jargon: It taught children how to deal with conflict resolution, promoted positive self-esteem and to not bully.



It may not have been the greatest program in the world, but I can guarantee you that if you were to sing the first line of his opening song, "Hey DUSO come on out"... to anyone who had been lucky enough to meet him during those decades, it will evoke just as strong memories as "Dick and Jane" evokes for those of us who learned to read during the 50's and 60's!!


What replaced it? Well my memory may be a little rusty, but I am pretty sure that the entire concept of teaching children lifeskills and academic skills and how to behave towards other children and people in their lives, was replaced by a "child-centered" learning approach. Let them learn what they want to learn. Let them write the way they want to write.  Let them read when they are ready to read and spell the way they want to spell. Say negative things to them in a positive way...  It was CHILD- centered and throughout the classrooms in the province, three words became the focus of not just a cute little theme in their Language Arts program, but of their entire education experiences. ALL ABOUT ME.


All about me. Children were encouraged to write about their favorite things, colours, games, pets, pasttimes. A really skilled teacher could sneak in a writing topic once in awhile such as "My Best Friend" or "My Mom". But in most cases this would degenerate into a list of all the things the friend or the parent could, would or should do to enhance the child's personal existence.


Developing Understanding of Self AND OTHERS. How much we need those last two words. Empathy. Compassion. Look up Empathy in Wikipedia... a short entry but scary when you consider what it could mean to generations of children when it is absent from their lives. Now add to the mix, over indulgent parents who fail to provide strong personal development guidance and the ALL ABOUT ME syndrome gets stronger and more prevalent. 


So when I see little kids excluding other children from "The COOL Club" or pre-teen boys bossing their mothers around at the mall,  high school kids cursing and swearing outside the local convenience store, university students who feel hard done by because they have to finish their assignments on time ( and not copy it from the internet), graduates who groan and whine because they found a job in their field and now SHOCK, GASP HORROR.. they have to work, it all makes perfect sense. DUSO has not come out for a very long time. I sincerely believe that it's time for the little guy be reinstated and children  taught the value of respecting themselves AND OTHERS, tolerance of the people in their lives, developing empathy towards the people who may not be as high on the ladder of life as they are, and the benefits of hard work whether in school, at home or on the job.


We'd all be a whole lot happier if we did.


HEY DUSO, come on out. Hey, DUSO, come on out. 
We like to listen and talk with you. 
We like your songs and your stories too. 
Hey, DUSO, come on out.


And until DUSO does make a comeback. I'd like to ask all the parents who read this to do one simple thing... At least once a week love your child enough to say NO and mean it!!  The real world is going to come knocking someday and you owe it to your child and yourself to prepare him or her for it.