ah friday, the day i throw off the fluffy pink shackles of parentdom and walk the city streets as quickly and carefree as i once did. this past friday, i walked the arts of islam exhibition at the art gallery, which closes next sunday, so quick! go! if you haven’t already.

i had been warned by a friend that one might be brought to tears by the beauty of some of the works on display, and it’s true, walking through the middle rooms filled with four-hundred-year-old qurans and illuminated manuscripts, one gets an idea of how insignificant it is to be moving text boxes around on a computer screen, when such amazing feats of publishing could be achieved with a very small paintbrush and a tub of gold paint. i didn’t cry, but i may have stifled such sacrilegious utterances as “holy fffffff” a half dozen times.

if you like drawing, as i do (or more accurately, if you like looking at drawings and getting that knot in your stomach from guilt that you are not drawing, as i do) then you might also like to see the dobell prize for drawing, where amongst other scribbly things you will see a rather arresting portrait of a boxer, a sympathetic rendering of a bull, and a luscious red still life of a pomegranate.

and then you might feel a bit peckish, and think to avail yourself of the tasty treats at the cafe downstairs. it is bordering on overpriced, but it is mostly good and fresh, and if you beat the lunchtime crowd, you can sit in a booth looking towards the room, with the deep red carpet and the gleaming white chairs, eating a well-dressed greek salad, and another with potatoes and slices of chorizo (though only two slices of chorizo for your $9.50, ch.).