Captain's Log: Stardate 10852.2
Yesterday morning started off with Weather Channel warnings of severe thunderstorms moving through the entire northeast for the evening hours. They warned of canceled baseball games, flooding, trees going down, dangerous lightning and power outages. Buildings will topple. Anarchy in the streets. Thousands dead.

But, as the day went on, a far more reliable and accurate service,, reported that a brief storm will pass through the area at about 5:00pm, followed by partly sunny skies for the rest of the evening, until about 10:00.

At least now the Weather Channel has switched to HD, so at least now they can suck in 5.1 stereo and 1080p widescreen.

The rain came at 5:00 and was gone by 5:45. The skies cleared and, despite a worried phone call from Captain Bou RaH (Pronounced "Burack") of the Klingon warship Peregrina almost suggesting we should cancel, it looked like another glorious evening of Wednesday Night Racing.

And glorious it was. Probably our best race of the year. The crew worked together amazingly well despite the absence of Ensigns Kenny and Brittany, both on the other side of the Atlantic (not together, as far as we know.) Everyone was paying attention and following directions like a well-oiled machine through some maneuvers that we hardly ever see on a Wednesday Night Race, much thanks to a 50-degree wind shift. Stuff like a tack-jibe-jibeset mark rounding at Big Tom.

There were no issues, no arguments, no clusterfucks. We made some good tactical calls and felt the Enterprise purr as she accelerated to over Warp 8.5 past the cheering latino community at French Fry Point -- You could smell the deep-fried lobster tails, Mmmm.

We finished in a solid third last night giving top performers like Crossbow and Whirlwind a real run for their money and it wasn't more than a few seconds after finishing that Ensign Ellen fired up the new 12-volt blender and was handing out margaritas.

Could we have done better? Sure, but it's all a matter of fine tuning. Better jibes, better starts (I was 10 seconds late) and increased communication will all make the difference we need. But wow, are we doing better than ever. I'm really seeing the crew get into its groove now.

After packing things up, a few of us went to our old "stomping grounds" of City Island Yacht Club where the wait for a hamburger is well over an hour (we left) and the waiters serve you ice water in a pitcher but no cups (apparently CIYC has reached the class level of "stick your face in there and slurp".) I hear the next steward there will be Chef Ronald McDonald.

Before going to the car, Lt. Commander Mitch, Lt. Jonathan and Ensign Ellen asked me if, on downwind legs, I could give them a one or two minute warning prior to a jibe so they can concentrate on getting everything set. Not a problem.

Or, they can wait for five minutes after Commander Richard says, "We should jibe now."