By Sir Philip Sidney
Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance
Guided so well that I obtain'd the prize,
Both by the judgment of the English eyes
And of some sent from that sweet enemy France;
Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance,
Town folks my strength; a daintier judge applies
His praise to sleight which from good use doth rise;
Some lucky wits impute it but to chance;
Others, because of both sides I do take
My blood from them who did excel in this,
Think Nature me a man of arms did make.
How far they shot awry! The true cause is,
Stella look'd on, and from her heav'nly face
Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race.
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We spent Sunday afternoon in Hanover with Paul's parents, taking Adam and Katherine with us. We went to lunch at the Hibachi Buffet, then drove to Hanover Shoe Farms, where we saw several mares with foals and many more horses out galloping in the fields. On the way back to Clair and Cinda's house, we stopped at the Utz Factory Store, where we got discount chips and chocolate covered pretzels. Then we celebrated Clair's birthday a day early at their house before leaving just as the sleet began to fall.
Near home, at least, we've only had rain. Adam and Katherine had too much homework to finish to have dinner with us (UMCP has classes on President's Day), so we had late sandwiches while watching Supergirl (yay Nia), Victoria (so many layers of ahistorical tripe and dramatic hyperbole), and Madam Secretary (a bit contrived as well, but without the aristocracy-adoring, empire-excusing stuff). Now we're watching John Oliver's breakdown of impending Brexit scenarios, each of which seems worse than the previous one.
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