Or is it Left?

Ladies and Gentlemen. I am now responsible for a bunch of administrative stuff.

I would like for you to take a moment, and meditate upon that last sentence and the implications thereof. Just pause at the many dangers one little sentence can inspire.

I will give you the equivalent: Ladies and gentlemen, the one armed man will now play the Brahms Violin Concerto.

Yes, a miracle is needed. Seeee, I am an artist. An "ar-tist." And there isn't an ar-tist on the face of the planet who has made a hoot of himself (yes, mostly male artists need the extra help) without some sort of ... assistant, secretary, whatever. Someone who is right or left brained or whichever one I'm not. When people ask if I am right or left brained, I reply, "I'm whatever side of the brain that can never remember which side of the brain he is."

I shall now and forever be thankful for all those who have assisted me in bringing order into chaos. My wife is first on the list. My mother is second. Susan Dortch is third. The amazing, incredible Susan Dortch. Susan is the music associate at Williams Trace Baptist Church in Sugarland Texas and besides being an accomplished musician herself, she may be the GREATEST music administrative genius in the history of the Church.

Now that I am preparing all the music for everyone, getting checks requested, filing music, finding music, I usually pause at least four to five seconds every half hour to marvel at her skills and all that I took for granted when I worked there. She, my wife and my mother all have something that I have not. A left side of a brain. Or wait a second... what if I'm looking from the front...? Tthen it is right. See, I'll never really know or understand.

I once tried to unlock my front door with my remote car unlocker-thingy. I stood there in front of the door for a good 5 seconds punching the "unlock" button, pointing it at the doorknob. Perplexed.

I once walked out of my front door to work out, wearing tennis shoes, a headband, towel draped over shoulder, a Mr. Rogers work-out t-shirt, my ipod shuffle, and a pair of whitie tighties. No workout shorts. Just underoos. Not even boxer briefs. I was out of the good ones. Just down to the grandpa-specials. Me and my Spongebobs.

On several occasions my wife has opened the refrigerator to find all sorts of things that do not need cooling sitting on the shelves... keys... books... a pair of socks... a cup of coffee...

I once bought a box of efferedent instead of alka seltzer and almost drank it.

HOWEVER!!!! I once walked onto stage at a College piano showcase, in front of hundreds, and played a COMPLETELY improvised a piece of music that was in the program under the name of "Ornansky." (My real name is Ornan) Everyone leapt to their feet and wanted to know who the composer "Ornansky" was. I said he was the half brother of Prokofiev. Prokofiev's dad had Spanish mistress. It was AWESOME!!!!

I'm sure many of you creative folks out there have similar stories, both with fridge mishaps and with creative triumphs.

One thing that I am NOT is late. Nor do I miss appointments without calling. RARELY. And I mean that. If I do, I am depressed for days about it. My iPhone has been my best friend when it comes to this.

So, all that to say... pray for me. So far, so good. But soon and very soon, I am going to need an assistant. I feel a little like Tom Hanks in the movie "Cast Away" trying to get over the coming waves in a cruddy raft with half a flapping portapotty as a sail... and a disturbed looking volleyball as my only buddy.

I'm doing fine right now. Praise the Lord for Macs.

Oh, I forgot to ask all you right brainers, ANY TIPS ON STAYING ON TOP OF EVERYTHING? KAT? PAGING KAT...