Category Archives: Gratitude
The Dentist … (insert dramatic music here)
That was my status this morning. Oh my funny cousin in Switzerland – and his comments. But he’s on to something. Yes, yes I do love my dentist.
This has not always been the case. For years and years I have had a deep and morbid fear of ‘The Dentist’.
I’ve shared the story before of how I broke my two front teeth in High School I’ll tell it again. (That’s what I do, I’m getting old. I repeat stories now.)
Those were the dental wonder years – my perfect, straight teeth. *sigh*
My dentist, who I never feared visiting back then, was even going to take a cast of my teeth to take to schools as a model. You remember those models? They’d whip a set of choppers out of their box of tricks and show you how to brush properly on them.
Oooo! Remember the chewable tablets that turned your teeth pink to show you how much plaque you missed when you brushed? Those were fun too.
Anyway, (tangent queen is in the house), I had PERFECT teeth. Never needed braces. Never had a cavity. Gold star for me.
Then came my Junior year.
That’s me on the right. Oh how I loved cheerleading. I’d make up routines at home, even messed around with a baton (which we didn’t use in cheerleading, but I had spirit! Anything spirit related, I was honing in those skills.)
One weeknight, I was on my bed, chatting with my brother Jamie, twirling a baton whilst on my back. I threw it up in the air and …. SMACK!
My perfect teeth were no longer perfect.
The semi-circle of ‘nothingness’ where ‘somethingness’ used to be on my two front teeth was pretty perfect though.
Off to the dentist.
Bonding was pretty new back then. (Gawd I’m old.) I think he was pretty excited about using this ‘new technique’. After what felt like hours of application and blue lights – my smile was back.
Went downhill from there – in my 20’s … my first cavity.
I won’t bore you with the progression of dental dilemmas, (you’re welcome) but let’s just say, that after a dentist told me “you can’t possibly FEEL that” as I writhed in pain in a chair, I wasn’t hell-bent on returning anytime soon.
So I didn’t. I put such appointments off until I couldn’t bear it anymore.
Then later it became a money issue. With no dental insurance, you’d better have just inherited some money to get work done.
Then it became a ‘I’ve waited too long and now it will only be worse and I am scared to hear what he’s going to say’ issue.
They call those teeth out you know! While frowning. And the assistant is jotting the numbers down and cutting her eyes at you from under her disappointed lashes.
It’s like hearing a list of crimes you’ve committed! “B4, G13, O22” … oh, wait, no, that’s Bingo.
But you get the picture.
And all the while, you’re gripping the arms of a chair like this:
And all you can think of, other than “that’s a long list, I might have to sell a limb or an organ to afford it”, is this:
I got brave. I was tired of not smiling. I had a lot to smile about. I LOVE life. And dammit, I was going to smile.
My first visit, found me covered in sweat (it was not hot out) and flinching at the innocuous bib they put around my neck.
I found muscles I didn’t know I had as I tensed up into a perfect impression of a plank of wood. Not easy to do in those chairs. But I accomplished it.
Keep in mind, this first visit was just a xray and assessment. Didn’t seem to stop me from grasping the assistants hand though. I love her. ❤
Long story short – $1,975 later and with only two small procedures to go, I am a PRO at the dentist.
The assistant took my hand in hers today and I didn’t even need to squeeze it.
I lay there, not caring about the needle – after chatting with everybody in the office and breathed slowly. Relaxed. Gazing out of the window at the clever little garden they have outside.
I occasionally blinked at the water they rinsed me with when it got in my eye … ok, I did almost drown once, she wasn’t quick enough with the suction, but I managed to swallow before I died.
Afterward, the dentist smiled when I showed him my list. I’ve been crossing off each completed procedure. I felt like a kid showing her parent a picture I’d made at school. “Put it on the fridge!”
Only two small procedures to go! Then it’s into the hygienists chair for a cleaning.
Oh gawd … Wait … I remember them!!! They poke, and floss too hard!
But, I will be brave.
And I will remember … when it comes to car problems, relationship problems or teeth problems, deal with them immediately! The longer you put it off, the worse they’re going to get.
Awake
My usual ‘Musings from the Laundromat’ will be written from home, as they’re not open yet.
I’ve been up since just before 5 O’Clock thanks to Butters, my restless bedroom companion. 3 times last night she wanted to go outside … just to bark at something and hang out on the porch. And that was a good night.
So here I am, sleepy, but happy and trying to find the words to describe the past week. I’m not sure I can.
‘Awake’ is a good start.
Haven’t been sleeping much … but the way I see it, if I’m blessed to be very old one day, I’ll look back and smile at experiences, not the time I spent asleep.
Besides, my mind is wide awake. As is my heart is and my soul.
A series of connections and coincidences keep occurring.
It is as if all the intangibles that have made me who I am, ancestry, music, beliefs, memories, words I’ve read, places I’ve been – have found their counterpoint.
I’ve always liked to think that when I experience Déjà vu it is a sign that I am right where I am meant to be. But I have not experienced anything like this past week before.
No sense that something has happened before, only that it was meant to.
Enough
The 29th was my 44th birthday. It was unlike any other.
Other than the fact that I spent it alone after work, I just felt different.
Okay, if I’m being fair, the quiet house and the importance, to me, of the special post I wrote that night was a pretty awesome way to spend my birthday.
Up until this year though, it seemed no matter how many birthdays I’ve had, I always experienced that twinge of excitement either the night before or morning of.
That warm, fuzzy, childlike moment when your head tells you “It’s my birthday!”
Not this year.
I’m glad I was born, don’t get me wrong. And I am grateful for life every day.
Flashback time … gather ’round. Little story for you.
When I was 9 or 10, and living in England, I had a rather complicated appendectomy. It resulted in staying in hospital longer than the other children. They went home minus their appendix and I waved goodbye, wishing I was going home too.
My poor (now 40-year-old) Teddy had to have an appendectomy too. I performed it. We had to match 😉
A while after that surgery, (and after I finally got to go home) I became very ill. I was misdiagnosed with gastric flu.
I got sicker.
My mum, deciding it was ridiculous that I could not even keep a drop of water down, walked me to the doctor. (Yes, we walked. We didn’t have a car, we walked everywhere.)
When she got me inside the practice, the doctor took one look at me and said something along the lines of “Oh God, she’s in trouble.”
An ambulance was called.
I remember being very aware of my surroundings. I was so excited to be in the ambulance! It was my first time after all! I remember chattering on and on to the doctors and nurses when we arrived at the hospital.
My mum had promised me I could have Ribena (A blackcurrant drink in the UK) I specifically recall telling them this as they wheeled me down a hall on a gurney.
I also remember wondering why they didn’t seem to care! LOL!
Their faces were serious and they were in a hurry.
Turns out, scar tissue from my mucked up appendectomy had grown around my intestines, resulting in strangulation.
Also turns out, due to dehydration and the seriousness of the diagnosis, had my mother not brought me in, I would have had died within half an hour.
I lived. (Obviously. That always cracks me up, when someone is telling a serious story and it gets to a dangerous and life threatening part and the listener, with wide eyes, asks, “Did you make it??”)
The surgery was a success. I recall the doctor telling me that he cut me so that I could wear a bikini and the scar wouldn’t show. (Dude! I’m 10!)
I used to hate that scar! I even got my belly button pierced years ago so that the jewelry would be the first thing I noticed while looking at my naked body, instead of the scar.
I still rock the piercing, but I look in wonderment and respect today at my scar, my reminder of how near to death I was.
Then came the partying. SO much partying. I treated my body like a carnival for a while. Albeit a carnival in a bad part of town with really crappy rides … but a carnival none the less. (Debauchery Soup people, Debauchery Soup.)
I lived.
Ever wonder why? “Why am I here?”
I have throughout the years pondered that question.
Was I spared for Nicholas to be born? Is he to be someone great?
Obviously as his mother I can tell you he already is someone great, but you know what I mean.
Like a Terminator type ‘great’ – “He will save the world in the future! So you shall live to bear this child!”
That kind of great.
On a serious note, a friend of mine lost her partner the other day – whenever I would call her to chat, or get advice, I could hear him in the background saying “Tell her she’s enough!”
Tonight my friend Samantha had posted on her wall: “People who tell you how to be a better person, offer advice, point you to their path or try to fix you, don’t realize that they are already enough.”
I liked that.
I like the thought that everyone is right where they are meant to be. And not only am I enough, but so are they. Just as they are.
(And if no one has told you today, “You are enough. And you are loved.”)
Lately I’ve been feeling like more than enough. I’m filled with a magical, mystical sense of hope and life.
I feel every experience I have had in these 44 years is soon to reveal a purpose. A destiny. A bell has been rung.
And thank God I’m ready for that! Because I am so very grateful for everything I already have. I do not want for anything. I have shelter, food, family, friends.
I have passions and causes.
Dreams and desires.
Yes, something has been awakened in me.
It truly has been a week of birth.
My interview with Rainer Höss. Part I
**In honor of Rainer’s book release in Germany, I am reblogging this interview from May. Click on the Amazon link within the interview to purchase the book. There still WILL be a part II to the interview, Rainer has been very busy but things seem to be finding a chaotic rhythm for him lately. On a personal note, congratulations Rainy on the book – I’m so proud to see you holding it! 🙂 **
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It is 3:15 am in Germany as I begin my writing. My friend ‘Rainy’ is sleeping. I miss the ‘ding’ of the email as he shares more and more about his journey, his hopes and his fears.
He is a book I cannot put down – a person I have come to deeply respect and care for in a short time. I do not know what time or even what day it will be in Germany when I finish. Or if I’ll ever be finished.
While it has to be mentioned to make any sense, this post is not going to be about his grandfather, Rudolf Hoess, (Höss, Höß) Commandant of Auschwitz.
It’s not for at least two very good reasons.
1) I am smart enough to know that I am too ignorant on the topic to have the nerve to offer any opinions or insights. There are far too many souls who have been personally harmed. I will not rehash only what is available to me on the internet and in history books. That information can’t begin to afford me the experience to decide how it must have felt, how it must have been. I will not disrespect those who have personally been affected by the holocaust.
2) My intention from day one was to offer Rainer’s story. His story, in my voice.
When I first saw him in a documentary I was immediately pulled into his world.
He cried, I cried. He was nervous standing before a group of students, I was nervous. He looked around the Villa where his father grew up on the grounds of Auschwitz, I was peering around the corners with him.
Rainer outside of the Villa at Auschwitz, where his father lived
So engrossed was I in that documentary, Hitlers Children, that it affected me profoundly.
We all have family secrets … personal shame about something or another and a lot of us must confess to having at least one ‘monster’.
That in mind, I could not fathom the magnitude of bearing the weight of not only having a most well-known ‘monster’ (I have a problem using that word) in my past, but it not being a secret.
Far from it.
Once Rainer shares his last name – the speculation and judging begins.
It is here that I will offer my ever so humble opinion.
We cannot be great people because our ancestors have done great things, so it stands to reason that we cannot be evil if our ancestors have done evil things.
I believe that those in fear, and still suffering, need something tangible to blame. Someone in the flesh to hear their story and to turn their anger on.
And that is not fair. And that is not right.
Rainer has said often he fears he has his grandfathers evil in him, “As if it could be inherited.”
My heart swells and my instinct is to protect – I do not believe for one minute that evil can be inherited. I believe that we choose our own paths and that we are not defined by our forefathers deeds. Or, more to the point, we don’t have to be. Sometimes our circumstances make it harder to take a different route, but it can be done.
As Rainer said to me, “To come to terms with your past, it takes a lot of strength, but it is also worthwhile to confront his demons. Rising to the task, and where there is a will there is a way. Of course, the path is sometimes rocky and hard, and not immediately visible. Giving up is too easy.”
Let me tell you about Rainer Hoess, who chose not to give up.
His favorite color is blue. “I could paint everything blue around me. The blue color gives me a sense of harmony and security.”
He likes to sit outside on his terrace and look at the stars at night, thinking about nothing. Sometimes with one of his cats in his lap.
He loves diving in the ocean, kickboxing, jogging, cycling.
He practices Tai Chi and Chi Gong daily for focus.
He is well-traveled, educated, genuine and loves his family. He often mentions his 4 beautiful children and his two beloved grandchildren.
And yet, in his words, “Often you stand before the mirror in the morning and look at yourself, similarities, comparing yourself with this monster. The worst thing is that you being to ask yourself the question, what I have of him that I do not know yet?”
I argued with him – pointed out how very different he is from his grandfather, from his own father even! But how can I think for one minute I have the right to do that? I am not walking in his shoes.
He went on to say, as we discussed his never-ending research, “I am always deeply penetrated into the psyche of my grandfather and have therefore often put myself in danger.” He was speaking of his health – his obsessive research in an attempt to understand, resulted in 3 heart attacks. He immersed himself in a desperate quest. (Which resulted in this book.)
But Rainer is also a thrill seeker – an adrenaline junky. “It gives me the opportunity to make myself free of these constraints of society. Myself to determine how far I want to go. There is also a kind of therapy to overcome boundaries.”
I think it’s also a vehicle to get out of his own head, if only for a little while – to feel something other than the weight of his ancestry.
Good thing he has a God of his understanding on his side.
Rainer also studied theology in his ‘free time’, “To cover all eventualities in my research and to get answers of my questions”
He went on to tell me, “But in churches I encountered a lot of misunderstanding after my questions. Faith as a shield and excuse for such crimes I cannot accept. And especially the denial of this crime by some churches and their leaders.”
Rainer is not in denial.
Rainer in the barracks in Birkenau
“To me it’s important that my generation had the chance to speak. Because what we have seen and experienced applies to everyone, and not just for descendants of Nazis.”
And speak he does. To students, to survivors. Rainer is on a mission to speak out in hope of understanding, healing and prevention for all who care to listen.
“Many believe what they read in the media, whether it’s true or not. They want to get to know me really the least, because who would gladly look in the mirror of his own soul through me?”
I wanted to look.
And as for the ‘Rainy’ nickname at the beginning. I know Rainer isn’t pronounced like Rain-er in German.
But when I saw the man who was raised to believe “A Hoess does not cry!” shed tears at Auschwitz – I cried along with him.
This morning I said to him,
“I’m glad to know the Hoess that DOES cry.
Tears are cleansing.
Like Rain.”
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(All photographs copyright of Rainer Hoess. Used with permission. All quotes and material is owned by Debauchery Soup/Amanda Hoskins.)
Prelude to something big …
Not in my wildest dreams could I have conjured the events following my post “There is such good …”
The following day, I checked my email as usual and promptly sat with my ipad as if I were holding the most precious, fragile item with shaking hands.
An email – from Germany.
Not just any email. An email from Rainer Hoess.
Two sentences:
“Thanks for your comfort article at your website (There is such good) Warm and friendly regards from Germany“
I haven’t been in shock many times in my life. I can assure you, I was, at that moment, in total and complete shock.
It’s not often the subject of something that touches you so profoundly contacts you. Okay, NEVER does the subject of something that has touched me so profoundly been in contact.
I did not know what to do. Other than sit – and stare at my email as if it were going to suddenly delete itself if I looked away.
Do I reply?? I thought perhaps not – I didn’t want to bother him with my gushing compliments and over the top thank you’s for taking the time to write a note to me. But, then I thought, WHEN am I ever going to have this opportunity again?
So I proceeded to embarrassingly gush and thank.
I hit ‘send’ while holding my breath. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t breathing anyway.
*Ding*
A reply.
I’m barely functioning at this point. How to read when my vision is swimming? Comprehend the words when my brain is doing some odd dance in my head? And how to use the touch screen when I can’t feel my extremities??
I’ll save the rest for the big event, but let me just say, after some 32 emails back and forth later – he graciously agreed to allow me to interview him.
I know how huge this is. I know.
And a part of me is terrified I’m going to let this amazing man down. But he trusts me.
And I trust my voice.
And I want to be a part of his generations effort to offer healing and hope.
I want to focus on his journey. A man who has struggled with coming to terms with his past. A past he had no part in, but is still persecuted for.
So watch this space.
I’ll be continuing to get to know this funny, insightful, delightful, strong, brave and caring man.
Then I will share some of him with you.















