Stardate 11458.1

Captain's Log: Stardate 11458.1
With the Southwesterly breeze filling in and no sign of showers anywhere in the forecast, it looked like last night's race was going to be a great one. Add to that the triumphant return of my wife to the Wednesday Night team and we were all set.

Would we sail the boat better? Probably, yes.

But will we look better doing it? Hells yeah.

I'm not really sure what happened next -- maybe it's our new casual approach to racing -- but everything went right. Everything. Our start was the best of the season, our tacks were eight seconds or less, our rounding of the first mark in heavy current went perfectly (at Warp 8 too) and there were no hang-ups, issues or mistakes.

Ensign Ceaser didn't fall down once.

Seriously, though. We started in first, rounded the upwind mark first and crossed the finish line first. And, to make the night even sweeter, we corrected into third. A superbly solid performance. Everything went so well that, for a moment, I thought about recruiting more crew and pulling the kevlar 155% genoa and two spinnakers out of storage. For a moment.

But, seriously, the hardcore racing mindset just isn't for me anymore. I don't want to think about the costs, the stress, the possible damage to the Enterprise, or even how much lighter the boat would be when Ensign Dave Jr. loses his hair in about 15 years.

Instead, my biggest worry will be whether to call him Kojak, Blofeld, or Jean-Luc.

We finished the night scarfing down tortilla chips with mild Wise salsa (not over Wise; that would be way too intellectual for this group,) while the crew admired our new automatic nighttime running lights, which also seems to be a hit for the launch drivers during the late-night shifts, using the Enterprise as a "waypoint" to find other boats.