Captain's Log: Stardate 11241.3
It takes nine people to run a starship. One or two more would be nice, but nine is clearly the minimum.

How do I know? Because last night we had eight.

And last night, thanks to the last-minute cancellation of Commander Jory because of something going on at work (Jory -- see log entry about Lt. Kurt a few weeks ago,) I was, simultaneously during a jibe, easing the lazy guy with one hand, bringing in the new guy with the other hand and turning the boat with my....

Shit. I'm out of hands.

I used my knee. That's right, my knee. Spoke after spoke after spoke. Ouch!

And it wasn't just me pulling double duty. The entire bridge team was learning new jobs and performing their existing duties. Especially impressive were Crewman Ceaser, Lt. Kurt and Chief Operations Officer Lt. Ellen, who got around so quickly it reminded me of that classic Trek episode where Kirk was moving 100 times faster than everyone else.

Commander Richard went from main trim to spinnaker trim. Lt. Kurt went from genoa trim to main trim to spinnaker grinding. Crewman Ceaser went from genoa trim to pit to grinding. A lot of grinding. His right arm hasn't seen this much action since he was single.

Despite all of the slowness picking up and executing the new positions, our major downfall last night was wind strength and bad decisions. Right side, left side, tack, jibe, follow, flyer -- it just didn't matter. Each time was the wrong time.

Didn't matter though -- it was a beautiful night and even though I truly love my career, a bad day on the water will always trump a good day in the office.

We got back to our standard orbit (mooring,) feasted on two-week-old potato chips, boxed wine, water and beer (nothing but the best for my crew! -- Clearly I need to do some provisioning for the summer) and compared the newly-employed (hooray!) Zoraida's exes: The Denebian Slime Devil and The Lameoid. Dave seemed to prefer the Lameoid, based solely on the race where he brought us pizza and beer.

Ensign Emily had to leave early because she wanted to, and I quote, "varnish the tiller", which we all assumed meant good news for her boyfriend Frank. But, when it became clear that she was going to do it alone, we were at a loss. It wasn't until later when we realized that her boat, Elixir, has a tiller that needed some woodwork.

Let's plan on bringing some food out for post-race dining next week as we celebrate my last few days of being 45. Upper 40's, here I come.