Aetna recently declined my application for an only-if-you-get-hit-by-an-18-wheeler-as-long-as-you-weren't-standing-in-the-street health insurance plan.

I have been deemed "high-risk" because I have a history of mild depression.  Never mind the plan states clearly that it does not cover any treatment related to depression, birth control, prenatal care, or child birth, even if they are not pre-existing conditions.

My husband says Aetna did us a favor, saving us the $5000 per year premium.  Maybe.

I'm thinking it's an opportunity to invest in a new approach to health care in this country, i.e., the exchanges that are due to appear in October.  It is an honor in some ways to put my money where my mouth is.

I believe in a nationalized health care system and I am not ashamed to say so.  It is simply barbaric that for Americans health care is a consumer industry rather than a service.

The part that angers me most is that when I tell people I've been deemed high risk, I find I am greeted with a shrug of the shoulders.  It seems like too many of us have given up.  I get that health reform needs to happen in gradual stages because people fear change.  But that more of us aren't more pissed off absolutely baffles me.

By the way, my resting heart rate at the time that I am writing this blog entry is 60 beats per minute.  I'm eating a whole grain raisin english muffin.  When I'm done writing, I'll send the kids off to school and go for my daily 5K run.

Perhaps I should rethink my diet and exercise routine given some pencil-pusher at Aetna is concerned that I'm in a high risk category for getting sick.

I hate Mother's Day!  I don't know how else to say it, so I'll start from the beginning...the eve of Mother's Day.

It's Saturday night.  We're all snuggled in for a movie.  11:30ish rolls around.  Movie's over.  I'm tired.  Mark says he feels awake.  So I say, hmmm...  And while I'm pondering whether or not to stay up with him to watch Saturday Night Live (and contemplate the muffin sketch a bit), he says to me, "Could I just have some time alone.  Tomorrow is Mother's Day, and I..."

I left before he finished his sentence.  Crushed.  Hurt.  Astonished, but not, given neither one of us are particularly good with holidays codified by Hallmark.  He did arrange for flowers to be delivered to his mother two weeks ago.  I wrote Mark a sarcastic note on a thank you card.  "Thank you for preparing for Mother's Day in a manner that makes me feel especially unimportant."  I went to bed.

Needless to say, when Mark came to bed and found the note he felt embarrassed, a little guilty, and angry at my stifled stab at him.

To tell the truth, my husband tells me everyday that I am beautiful, that I am smart, that he is grateful that I am his best friend.  He truly makes me feel special every ordinary day.  We work out together, we work together, and we spend most of every 24 hours together, much of it engaged in parallel activities or tasks.

I feel so grateful to be married to Mark.  He's my best friend.  He's incredibly loving and nurturing.  He's fun and playful.  He's my creative colleague.  He completes me...

How is it that Hallmark and American Greetings and even Sandra Boynton (whose cards I have loved for 15 years!) can make us, two people in a truly loving marriage, both feel so justifiably pissed off at the other?

I hate these holidays...Mother's Day, Father's Day, Valentine's Day...

We should love each other in the manner the flower and greeting card industry want us to love each other unexpectedly, here and there in the month or week, when we feel moved to make an extra gesture to the one we love.

I hereby declare EVERYDAY the day we should tell the moms and dads in our lives that we love them and appreciate what they've given us over a lifetime;  EVERYDAY the day we should make love with our partners in life like the first time we got it right (first times are a little too awkward);  EVERYDAY the day we should hug our children and look into their eyes like we did they day they were born;  EVERYDAY we should thank our administrative assistants and support staffs for making us look good...

Everyday we should love our neighbors, as ourselves....

I find I have a hot and cold relationship with discipline.

During the past several years I’ve started several blogs.  I find it very difficult to blog consistently.  It seems like there is always something more important to do.  After a few weeks go by, I feel guilty and lazy about not blogging.  And the remorse takes its toll over time.  I begin to feel bad about myself.  Do I have discipline issues?

But then I take note of the fact that this June I’ll be married 20 years.  Marriage is a disciplined practice.

A year after my youngest daughter was born I went on a Weight Watchers regimen.  I wrote lists of every morsel of food that passed my lips.  I exercised.  Actually I became both obsessive and compulsive recording what I ate, counting points and taking extra runs so I could consume more points.  I lost 40 pounds of baby making fat in three months.  Diet is a disciplined practice.

Discipline is a choice we make.   Why is it sometimes so easy and other times so hard?

My new pal, Robin, has challenged me to transform my blogging from once in a long while to a disciplined practice.  Thanks for the cuppa and the English muffin, Girlfriend!

...Speaking of Tina Fey and Steve Carrell's Date Night which I can't wait to go see...

Mark and I had a date night last weekend.  Mark treated me to a G. Love and Special Sauce concert at Antone's Nightclub, here in Austin.  Those three guys rock!  Great jams.  Fun lyrics.  Their music and performance explores our most base human behaviors with a genuinely loving and playful approach.  They are really, really great!

Why not enjoy being human and just have fun sometimes?  Are bouts of pleasure so awful we have to justify wanting them or feel the need to be discreet about having them?

Or are they awe-ful??  Perhaps bouts of pleasure revitalize us;  rebuild the trust we lose in humanity as result of daily wear and tear in our relationships at home and at work; and, reinvigorate our capacity to love one another?


...Just like Tina and Steve, our date night just had to go off-course.  But unlike Tina and Steve, our story is definitely not whole movie...

We arrived at Antone's as the opening band was starting to play.  Mark got us a couple beers and we easily approached the stage from the side...a great spot for when G. Love and Special Sauce take the stage!  We were thinking ahead, yes we were.  We nabbed a perfect audience location.  Wouldn't you know it just as the energy in the room shifted indicating G. Love was ready to take the stage, two young women with matching i-Phone protectors around their matching i-Phones pushed their way to stand right in front of us.

We thought ahead.  How dare these two...  F***ing txting, Twittering... Oh sh*t, I left my cell phone at home.  I  hope Mark has his if there's a kid emergency... F***ing Facebooking Barbie doll droids... Meeee-owww...

I glared.  One of them spoke:

"Excu-use me, this is a general admission concert... genera-al admissssssion...  That means we cut in front of you, and you push in front of us, and we climb over you, and those are the rules of general admission..."

By now my anger had passed and I felt amused.  I admit I also felt a little old, but in a pompous, looking down from a mountain top kind of way.

The young women txted other people who were presumably not present at the concert on their matching i-Phones.  It was obvious that when they were done they'd push to an even better spot like front and center.  They were young and beautiful and hungry.  I felt wise and beautiful and satisfied.  They would spend the night seeking attention and recognition.  I would rock out to some cool tunes and go home to make sweet love with my man.

I leaned forward and delivered a delayed response to the ear of the spokeswomen for the two:

"Thank you, honey, for letting me know the rules general admission.  I never quite heard them that way before.  I wish you only success in all your endeavors.  Go, young tigress, be yourself..."

She rolled her eyes at me.

I love being in my forties!  Life just keeps getting better and better and definitely abundantly more fun.  I think it's all really a matter of perspective.

If only I had a dollar for every time some one asked me why I became a rabbi...

During interviews for pulpits or talking to others in my capacity as a congregational rabbi I always answered that I enjoyed the diversity of work the job entails.  I liked studying and teaching.  I liked counseling and I liked public speaking.  I did truly appreciate all these aspects of my career as a congregational rabbi.  How many single positions

The truth is I think I became a rabbi because it was in a Jewish context that I found my voice and enthusiastic reinforcement for exercising it.  I found my way into NFTY, the youth movement of Reform Judaism in America.

There I quickly made friends and learned that I was naturally a leader. Even though I had plenty of friends at school, weekend getaways and retreats were more conducive to cultivating deeper friendships than during or in between classes.

I developed social action projects in which other people participated, had a great time, an did some good in the world.  With fantastic mentoring from the Religious Action Center, as a teen, I lobbied progressive issues on Capitol Hill and trained other teens to do so.

Prayer and learning were informal and I was encouraged to be creative with them both.  I was.  Others enjoyed my liturgical and educational experimentation.

I was good at youth group and I was good at being a Jew.  So the movement encouraged me to become one of its leaders, a rabbi.  I never really thought about it much, I just did it.  It fit.

When I look back on the past quarter century of my life, I see that in the rabbinate I had a place to focus my passion and creative energy.  Ultimately I believe that is why I became a rabbi.

Interestingly I have learned that passion and creative energy aren't as conducive to synagogue life in adulthood as they were in adolescence.  For most church and synagogue goers, organized religion is a place for recapturing a moment of certainty and ritual practice in an uncertain and often chaotic world.  Routine is important, as is the status quo.  When the rabbi is too involved in his or her own passions or creative pursuits, the people feel frustration and neglect that they aren't getting the experiences they pay the rabbi to get.

I didn't become a rabbi to be an employee of the Jewish people.  I became a rabbi to explore Judaism more deeply and share my findings.

One of the most interesting observations I've made in my transition back into civilian life from the rabbinate is how difficult it can be to shift gears.  I don't mind that my phone rarely rings and that I only receive 5-7 emails a day rather than forty.  I like that part a whole lot.

The challenge is being an ordinary player on an even playing field again.  As a rabbi, my title and position changed the dynamics of social engagement...even among friends and family.

I like not being in charge...but I've nearly forgotten how to do that.  Without giving it a single thought, I catch myself taking for granted that everyone around me will go with whatever plan I put forward.

The more anonymous I am, like at last week's South by  Southwest film panels and workshops, the easier it is feel my own smallness and open my mind to new information and modes of conduct.

The more intimately committed I feel, like in marriage and family, the harder it is to pull the stressed out over committed rabbi back and reinvent the choreography of daily life, both short term and long term pursuits.

The good news is that scientifically, the case for human adaptability has been proven rather successful.  I can grow and change and adapt and continue to develop into a more deeply thinking, compassionate, and creative partner and parent.  We all just need a little patience.

South By Southwest 2010 is now past.  I wonder what the streets of Austin will look like once the sun rises and I can see them sadly uncrowded.

I already miss the tens of thousands of interactive inventors, film lovers, and musicians who were here.  They brought such energy and excitement and innovation and creativity into our lives for more than a week of frenetic learning, networking, people watching, and listening to awesome music - everywhere!

The internet is my friend.  "Content" is my art.   Who doesn't appreciate well-crafted words, striking images, and music deliberately chosen or composed to facilitate the pace and tenor of a journey?

All the rest is commentary, go and learn...