Every second Tuesday is my day. My. Day. The newspaper is finalized and sent to the printer’s every second Monday, so the day after is my opportunity to decompress. As you can imagine, this is easier said than done. Sometimes my Tuesday is the only available day for a meeting or I get caught up in errands, but I do try my darndest to keep it clear. You see, I’ve decided that every second Tuesday is the day I devote to filling up my vessel. (This is something I wrote about awhile back in regards to writer’s block. You can read that right here.)
Regular Fishbowl readers might recall the Lost Day I had last week. Well, yesterday I decided to reclaim that day and even out the tally.
After my usual morning routine, I picked myself up, got in the car, and made my way downtown to the National Gallery. Mind you, the siren song of my book (The Witches of New York, it’s soooo gooood!) and the promise of hot beverages and fuzzy blankets was very hard to resist, but I ignored that feeling and set out anyway.
Spoiler alert: I was very happy I did.
I started my solitary, leisurely stroll through the Alex Janvier exhibition. Janvier is a contemporary indigenous artist whose work will challenge any preconceived notion you might have about aboriginal art. (By the way, he’s the fellow who designed and painted the gorgeous artwork on the domed ceiling of the Museum of History in Gatineau.)
Next up: a thoughtful exhibition of the photos of Josef Sudek (1896–1976), a.k.a the “poet of Prague.” My favourite photos were his historical views of Prague, but that’s really only scratching the surface of his body of work:
I took a break for lunch at the cafeteria. Have you ever been? The food is good and reasonably priced. I had an apple/brie panini, a bag of chips, and a coffee for about ten bucks.
This pretty view of a snow-covered Parliament Hill was included in the lunch (what a deal!):
After lunch, I went to visit some old friends…
.. and then settled down for some quiet contemplation in the main foyer. There were a bunch of great big red chairs facing Parliament Hill, with wide curving backs that went up higher than my head. A young couple snuggled in one of these chairs on my left, and there was a breastfeeding mother on the right. What a lovely space.
I, too, enjoyed a bright and sunny view while I wrote this blog post. :)
As I sat there and looked out over this snowy corner of Ottawa, I listened to the quiet hum of people around me and thought about how good it felt to reclaim this day. I was reminded that I am ultimately the master of my own time, and that the Found Days outnumber Lost Days, by far.
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