I think it all stems from my Grandfather constantly encouraging me from a young age to "beat the boys" and telling me I could do anything I put my mind to.
It was no surprise that I was in a competitive mood Saturday morning when I went on a little fishing trip to some family land outside of Perry, OK with my Dad and my husband.
It was a windy day and the fish were not biting. Even my Dad, the always-successful, uber-competitive angler was having no luck at all. After a few hours, we were all pretty discouraged, and my Dad had started to load up his gear. I did not want to give up, and I cast a quick line out only to feel it pull almost immediately as I began to reel it in.
Now don't get me wrong, the little fish on the end of my hook was nothing to write home about, but I didn't care. I let out an exuberant yell and my Dad and my favorite both looked on in a mixture of happiness and dismay.
I am sure my expression was one of sheer delight. I had beaten the boys again and it felt darn good!
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| Picture taken begrudgingly by TK |
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