Full Brain Syndrome

I AM UP before first light, unable to sleep, due to Full Brain Syndrome.

Everybody gets it. When your head swims and you can't shut down, you have FBS. There is no cure without side effects. So I'm watching the day slowly break, sipping hot coffee on my back porch while Bella The Destroyer chases a squirrel in the backyard. Lucy just opened the back porch door by herself to go out.

I refuse to cope with FBS by taking pills. Well, that's not entirely true. My doctor suggested I take melatonin, a "natural sleep aid." Does it work? If I tell myself it does, it must. Along with the baby asprin and men's OneADay pill, I am willing myself to good health one swallow at a time.

Over the years I've gotten better at leaving the job at home, but that's not always easy when you have dirtballs burned into your mind and you wonder what your next looming column will be about. The Police had a great song about it on Ghost In The Machine called "Too Much Information." Too much information, running through my brain, too much information, driving me insane.

In a few weeks I'll be on a beach that time forgot many miles from here and everything will go away. It will cure office burnout for a while. I hope.

I have a beautiful wife who is smart as a whip and is doing a great job running our business. I have to learn to be as involved as possible yet to stay out of the way, as well. Can we pay the rent and utilities in the big new space? What about the new lesson room we want to build? Will Frank Haxel cut his hands off building our new stage? Can we get in a new line of guitars?  What about keyboards and PA gear? 

Deep breath, Junior. It's always worked out and Sheryl will handle most of the details. So deal with it.

Speaking of Frank, our Cheeseburger Roadie of Doom, he has a saying, "We'll sleep when we're dead." There's a lot of truth to that. My hair ain't gray, it's just ... shinier. And sleep won't help it get less shiny.

We have two big Cheeseburger shows this weekend and haven't played or practiced in two weeks, so we'll have to pay extra attention to detail tonight in Hannibal and Saturday night at a potentially riotous private party. I am missing Blues In The District tonight and worry about Sheryl being at the store while 5,000 people flood the park across the street.

No worries. Big A, Alex Sanders, is officially on the payroll at Second String Music and they will be fine.

Must of dozed off for a second because it's 6 a.m. Bella is jumping around the backyard and putting her front paws on the fence because she sees a rabbit or cat next door. Lucy came back in and is protecting me, nose twitching, eyes darting. These dogs are happier than ants in sugar, worried only about their next Woodland walk and when they get to eat this afternoon, and a treat when they come inside.

Take the cue, Holmes. Maybe it will cure FBS. Another cup of coffee won't hurt either as the world awakes.

Bring it on, Friday!