defending champion

I knew it was idiotic, but it had to be done in the name of, well, the thing which motivates a very large number of idiotic things. Being first. We are still experiencing the tail end of peak run-off, the lake was full, the morning was beautiful, and the glassy surface beckoned. There was nothing to do but the obvious thing. I put it off until the wind picked up and whipped the glassy surface of the lake into something resembling the surface of the Kansas lakes we are used to skiing on- I knew it would be cold. But as Mr.B. turned the boat toward the shore, I found myself digging for the ski rope, and heard myself proclaiming I would water ski, in spite of the fact that three weeks ago, most of the water in the lake was nestled in some high mountain crag in the form of snow. I am psyched- it was one of our biggest worries, that we would not be able to have the sort of sun-drenched, waterlogged fun we had in Kansas in the summers. Ski I did, after easing myself into a lake which turned my extremities numb before my ski planed. Call me crazy, but have YOU been in the water yet? Looks like I get the distinction of being the first one in the water, three years running. The most frusterating thing about my record of wins is that nobody cares, nobody launches themself off the bow in order to break my record. Not only does it go unbroken, it goes unchallenged. I have married into a very complacent family. I race to the summit of a twelve thousand foot peak, and between gasps, turn around to gloat my victory... to find that no one else is playing. I tie my hiking shoes, thinking I will shame someone out of the house, but they just ask me if I have my phone. Oh, I love them dearly, every one, but they're just so darned... mature. Oh, well. I still do my victory dance, because deep down, I know they wish it had been them rubbing feeling back into their fingers and toes.