I don’t use my sketchbook nearly as often as I should. I was looking through one of them yesterday evening and stumbled upon a series of ink sketches I had done the previous spring. I was amazed at how vividly I remembered the circumstances behind each sketch, even though I was seemingly engrossed in the act of drawing, and seemingly completely detached from my surroundings. Mostly these were images of my dog and my son in typical relaxed household situations, and I also had a few that I had done during a state solo/ensemble competition, of my son’s saxophone or of other parents sitting in the auditorium. (we were going to be at this competition for a long stretch of time, and I thought that bringing along the sketchbook would give me something to do during down times).