For those of you who took the summer off to go cruising, it is time to get back in the swing of things. Kotuku spent the last two months of summer recovering, cruising, harvesting seafood, and trying to swallow the racing bug. Burp. Nice try. It's back...
Race calendar is to your right. Lots more good stuff coming, like Star and Bar in a couple of weeks, buoy racing at PSSC where we aim to improve on our dead last finish, and of course the Grand Prix. Oh yeah, Round The County, where Al will try to find another magic nut (lead us, oh blind squirrel, through the Peapod Rocks again!)
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Team Kotuku Wins the VanIsle 360 with Grit, Luck, and Funny Hats
Foolishly, we served notice to the fleet on leg 1 that even after doing a 720 for fouling Cinco de Mayo we could come back and win with a combination of good boat handling, decent speed, and solid tactics. We were newbies, and didn't realize that winning the early stages doesn't do much more than make sure that the faster boats cover you once they get ahead. And so the battle begins...
Leg 2 started well, but ended up being our worst finish, mid-fleet and looking at the stern of California Girl (2nd slowest boat) as we reached back to the finish after missing the shore lift. Sometimes the middle doesn't pay. Consistency does though, and one stinker was enough for us. We would find ways to stay on the podium until the last race and except for legs 2 and 3, we would lead the overall point total until the end.
Legs 3 and 4 we were increasingly breezy upwind bashes through the top of the Strait of Georgia and the bottom of Johnstone Strait. Back and forth we found ourselves trading tacks with Kiva, Opus, Rubato, and many of the faster Div 2 boats. We finished 2nd and 3rd after fine results by Kiva and Rubato who both seemed faster than we are upwind in a blow. Masts broke, sails blew out, and keel bolts loosened for others, but Kotuku took care of us. And we took care of business and stayed in the hunt.
On the long, grueling outside legs, we dug deep and found a level of focus and consistency that none of the other boats could match. We might miss a shift or get stuck in a hole--it happened to everybody, most more than once. But when the sun rose, again and again Kotuku seemed to find herself near the front of the pack, taking line honors twice more before Night Runner came on form as we all knew she would. Sometimes slower boats would correct over us, but we kept the other race leaders in our sights and fought for leverage over the top boats and gradually built a point lead until by the last race, we had a 50 point lead over our closest competitor, Rubato. I believe it was in Uclulet that we broke out the wigs and hats. (Photos coming...)
Leg 9 showed that while we don't have Night Runner's downwind speed, Kotuku is no slouch off the wind. And we were really glad to shake out the nylon after carrying the kites around for 3/4 of the way. After a solid start and an early surfing match that we eventually conceded to The Old Brown Boat Who Can, we ended up finishing 3rd. For us, it felt like vacation for most of the run down from Uclulet to Victoria, where we had speeds in the 12s at the beginning and end of the leg. We actually gave up a place to Rubato with a spinnaker change through Race Rocks, figuring it was better to be third with all our sails than have to fight again tomorrow without a light air kite. A wise decision, as it turned out.
And in dramatic fashion, leg 10 proved that when the going gets tough and the night is long, Kotuku does not quit. We finished first over the line despite multiple re-starts and current gates that left our closest rivals well behind us. And that was how we won the VanIsle 360.
We finished first in Division 3, and it looks like we were the high point boat for all classes for the entire regatta. (I think we were the only one tracking this as it turns out. Sorry Tom and Terry, they only gave out divisional trophies, and shortest overall elapsed.) Still, not bad for a bunch of oddballs, eh?
If I haven't said it yet, the boat is good, but the crew won this race. I'd like to thank Becca, Trent, Eli, Garth, Chris, John, Stu, and a special thanks to Al for getting the boat up there, bringing it back, and making sure we were pointing in the right direction. Our teamwork and sail handling was rock solid. Our tactics were consistently excellent. But most of all we had a great time. Not sure quite how it happened, but Team Kotuku forged itself into a tight-knit, easy-going, fun loving family that could be consistently focused on the race course. Thank you one and all for the great time, and the great results!
One last note: This race is a logistical nightmare. Without the continuous work of our shore support team, this result would not have been possible. A big thanks from all of us to Tom, Marie, Talia, Savai, Solomon, Barry and Amy.
And most of all, thank you Janna for organizing, shopping, cooking, cleaning, wrangling, and just plain making this crazy dream come true. As those who know you can attest, your support regularly makes
Big Hairy Audacious Goals Happen.
I love that about you.
Thank you!
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Deep disappointment from a 5 year old...
Apparently Talia has been reading Trent's emails about our ability to win the Ballard Cup. With the Cup on the line in the last race of a 5 week series, we needed a bullet or to beat Delirium by 2 places and she knew it. Needless to say we didn't, and I have been hearing about it ever since.
We had a nice mid-line start with good boat speed, and we were able to go right to get into the beach when we wanted to and cross the heavy hitters in our fleet at the same time. We rounded first, failed to jibe inside, and watched Delirium leg out underneath us in the stronger shore breeze. Damn.
Spent the rest of the race trying to reel her in. With Bob Pistay and new sails aboard, they weren't giving us many breaks. We are faster uphill, and closed the gap, only to round the leeward mark behind them again. The boat felt sticky and slow all night. Hoists were slow too, but only part of the problem.
Ended up 2nd across the line, 3rd on corrected. Delirium wins the series, we take second. Sorry, Talia. We will try to get our boat speed back so we can bring home some shinier stickers.
We had a nice mid-line start with good boat speed, and we were able to go right to get into the beach when we wanted to and cross the heavy hitters in our fleet at the same time. We rounded first, failed to jibe inside, and watched Delirium leg out underneath us in the stronger shore breeze. Damn.
Spent the rest of the race trying to reel her in. With Bob Pistay and new sails aboard, they weren't giving us many breaks. We are faster uphill, and closed the gap, only to round the leeward mark behind them again. The boat felt sticky and slow all night. Hoists were slow too, but only part of the problem.
Ended up 2nd across the line, 3rd on corrected. Delirium wins the series, we take second. Sorry, Talia. We will try to get our boat speed back so we can bring home some shinier stickers.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
2 days, 2 sails, 2 people, 2nd Place Overall
Race To The Straits is Epic. It can be big air, no wind, sloppy seas, and great sailing. All in one day. Fix what broke, tidy the boat up, head for the party, sleep if you can, then repeat.. For a 34 mile course each day, we often pass through the Puget Sound convergence zone. This year it meant a downwind sleigh ride with speed over ground in the low teens, aided by 3 knots of current. Then, wham, no wind, then a howling northerly. Some interesting sail changes for boats that had them--Janna and I do this race NFS (without the big colorful kites) because it keeps it fun, and keeps us from yelling at each other. And I have to say, learning how to use a jib on a pole is an interesting challenge.
We had a great race. Janna proclaimed it her best race ever. Interesting because last year we were first in class and this year we were second in class and second overall. But the sailing and the competition were both better. Saturday we were leading the pack and amongst the race leaders before falling into the Marrowstone Abyss, where we puttered along in 3 knots of breeze while being overtaken by the smarter, faster, and luckier. Still managed a 3rd in our class, so we felt we could at least go to the party.
The next day we had a decent start and a good line past Marrowstone, slipping tight under the lee of the cliffs there and getting ahead of Pegasus and battling with our friends on better light air boats (Summer Light, an Express 34 and the Olson 30 Lunch Box). We got a little to full of ourselves and held the shore too long before jumping across. Had to battle back from behind Pegasus, but we know the Whidbey Shore pretty well and hugged the beach, slipping by them at Bush Point on the inside by brazenly repeating the move we used on them at Marrowstone. After that it felt like we were match racing with Pegasus, who sailed brilliantly but we kept them just off the transom around Double Bluff, and Point No Point. But they were just a little better than us in the light stuff and were able to break cover off of Jefferson head in spite of our efforts. Maintaining a tight cover double handed for 5 hours was fun and all, but when the wind got really light, we just shrugged and said "there they go." Next time we will not give up so easily...
The next day we had a decent start and a good line past Marrowstone, slipping tight under the lee of the cliffs there and getting ahead of Pegasus and battling with our friends on better light air boats (Summer Light, an Express 34 and the Olson 30 Lunch Box). We got a little to full of ourselves and held the shore too long before jumping across. Had to battle back from behind Pegasus, but we know the Whidbey Shore pretty well and hugged the beach, slipping by them at Bush Point on the inside by brazenly repeating the move we used on them at Marrowstone. After that it felt like we were match racing with Pegasus, who sailed brilliantly but we kept them just off the transom around Double Bluff, and Point No Point. But they were just a little better than us in the light stuff and were able to break cover off of Jefferson head in spite of our efforts. Maintaining a tight cover double handed for 5 hours was fun and all, but when the wind got really light, we just shrugged and said "there they go." Next time we will not give up so easily...
Good fun, great photos, and a great race. Truly one of the best races of the year in the Pacific Northwest.
Photos are here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/75869001@N00/sets/72157626563676597/
(Thanks Jan, for getting out there and taking such great shots!)
A good write-up by Ben Braden is here: (not for the faint of heart...)
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
What a long, strange trip it was
No one likes Southern Straits. It is long. It is cold. It blows like stink. It doesn't blow at all. The litany of reasons not to do the race goes on and on and on. Still, this is an iconic race in the PNW because it demonstrates the best and worst of sailing up here. And so north we go. 95 miles to win, lose, or quit. This year tested our will and our skill once again.
In stark contrast to last year, where it was blowing in the high thirties on the way out to the start, we left the harbor at West Van in glassy conditions and the weather report was for more of the same. John and Becca had a long but pleasant delivery up, and Eli, Trent, Alex and I spent what seemed like forever in traffic. So getting the whole crew (along with Terry, our token Canadian) together on the boat and headed out to the line felt like a decent accomplishment in itself.
There was a light breeze out of the east at the start which switched around to the west about 5 minutes before our horn. We changed strategy from a spinnaker bear away to a light beat to windward and managed to avoid the cluster of chaos at the committee boat with a clean start more or less on time, with Astral Plane (J-109) just to leeward of us.
We beat slowly out the channel, holding the middle of the course, fighting to keep our lanes, and trading tacks mostly with the slower boats as the better light air boats slipped away from us. Eventually we chose the north side of the straits, and pressure built along Bowen Island to perhaps 10 knots. This caused a painful shift from the light #1 to our medium/heavy #1, with one bad tack thrown in for good measure. With only 7 people aboard, we were a little shy on crew, and sail changes were rougher than we are used to these days. A few more boats slipped by us, and some fervent swearing was heard in the back of the boat. Sorry folks!
The good news was that with the right sail combination up, and pressure finally up to Kotuku's preferred range, we started to engage our fleet again, and before long we were passing Rubato, and then Kiva, and the C&C 115s. We continued to do well on the beach, and over the course of the afternoon we could finally see the leaders again, mostly close to shore and working the north side. The part of the fleet that went south and west early got further and further behind.
Alex did a great job of forcing us to keep Kotuku's nose down and her boat speed up as the wind speed eased off in the afternoon. We actually did the first leeward end-around on Cu N Mara, a C&C 115, but it was a move that we would use again and again along the course. Good sailors don't pass to windward, apparently, if the the breeze is less than 8 knots and they are driving cruising boats. By the time we got to the first mark, Ballenas Island, we were in a mixed fleet of big and little boats. Even though it was dark--or perhaps because it was dark--it felt like we were in the middle of things as boats large and small went slipping by with their red or green lights indicating whether they were concerning, or whether they were just out with us enjoying the meteor showers.
"All hands on deck, we are rounding" calls Alex. Sleepy hands pile out of bunks as we hoist the Finger and begin to work downwind. I plot a rhumbline course for Entrance Island and we begin to show the fleet that while Kotuku may be sticky in the light stuff, she is dangerous downwind in any conditions.
We found ourselves passing big boats, (Beneteaus, Aerodynes) small boats (Olsons) and at one point getting rolled in the most awesome fashion by Strum, a modern 50 footer that somehow tangled with a flea--a french ultralight that thought they could hang with the big dogs tried to take them up. Or not. Some words were exchanged, and Strum disappeared in the dark, never to be seen again. What a fun run!
Dawn found us beating slowly up to Halibut Bank, having lost a couple of places to our fleet on a bad sail change in a big header that caused us to go from a spinnaker reach to a head sail that we could not seem to get up in the dark, tired as we were. Mojo (J-109)and Havoc (33' sport boat) ahead of us and Kiva too had slipped us past. Damn, work to do.
I could see that the boats ahead were being set massively low of the island, and so we fought to stay high, and still be fast. Kiva got below us, and we slipped by her and when we rounded we were on Havoc's heels and Mojo was just starting to leg out on the 22 mile reach to the finish. Then it went light, ultra light again.
The good news was that we could see our competition. Even Manana and Diva, the leaders were on the horizon. Ptolemy, the other Express 37 who had been way ahead was just to ahead and to windward. The C&Cs were not far behind us. And Dominatrix, the X-119 that Brandon and I once made an offer on was off the stern. Just not far enough.. Astral Plane, who we had struggled to stay close to in the daylight, was nowhere to be seen. (They packed it in and headed home under power, succumbing to the pull of a warm bed and some actual boat speed)
My vote was to stay high and protect the north, where I thought the wind was likely to come from. Alex was driving, although we were swapping helm regularly throughout the race with one of us navigating and the other driving. We found thin lanes of air that allowed us to protect our lead on Kiva, but Merlin came up on a hot tack in good air underneath us and cleaned our clock. Icon went with her, and we followed slowly behind them.
Mojo, who had been sailing low but directly at the finish came up suddenly and decided to try and roll us to windward, but Alex had seen enough. We rolled up our sleeves and got into a fist fight. With me trimming the kite, and John trimming the main, we somehow managed to have enough up when we needed it to close the door on them. Once, twice, three times, four times they tried to go above us. Head faking, swooping under us, rushing, threatening us with the long prod and their huge red kite. Never more than a pole length or two from our stern. But we were fired up and fighting and Alex was on them with every move. Between scraps he sat slumped casually over the wheel like he was tired and oblivious, but shifted gears fast as a cat when they powered up for a run at us. Finally they gybed away and I handed the sheet to Eli, my arms were Jello. And that was the last we saw of them, as their gybe out put them into bad current and our rear view mirror.
We finished at 12:56PM, after 26 hours of constant racing. Yes it was slow, we probably never saw hull speed. But it was sustained racing for 95 miles. I can't remember a race where we were head to head with such good competition, in such challenging conditions, for so long. We finished a few (70') boat lengths behind Neptunes Car, proving that this was truly a race to remember.
We finished 4th of 14 in our class, behind a J-109, an Express 37, and that C&C 115 that clobbered us in the final leg. We corrected over Ptolemy, and beat the rest of the class boat for boat even though we were slow boat in the class. We were 8th of 34 for the medium course race. Not a podium finish, but nothing to be ashamed of either. Every crew member contributed to our effort. Terry and Eli were relentless trimmers in the physically demanding work of fighting big sails in light air conditions. Becca's lasagna evaporated, as did her eggs and 7 of the 8 cinnamon rolls that she managed to cook before we ran out of propane. Trent kept us on course and pointed at the mark, and fought sails up and down the mast at all hours. And John trimmed main for pretty much the entire race without a break. Alex was Alex, and if this report doesn't make it damned clear, that man can sail.
Exhausted. Exhilarating. Worth every minute. We'll be back, in spite of good advice to the contrary.
In stark contrast to last year, where it was blowing in the high thirties on the way out to the start, we left the harbor at West Van in glassy conditions and the weather report was for more of the same. John and Becca had a long but pleasant delivery up, and Eli, Trent, Alex and I spent what seemed like forever in traffic. So getting the whole crew (along with Terry, our token Canadian) together on the boat and headed out to the line felt like a decent accomplishment in itself.
There was a light breeze out of the east at the start which switched around to the west about 5 minutes before our horn. We changed strategy from a spinnaker bear away to a light beat to windward and managed to avoid the cluster of chaos at the committee boat with a clean start more or less on time, with Astral Plane (J-109) just to leeward of us.
We beat slowly out the channel, holding the middle of the course, fighting to keep our lanes, and trading tacks mostly with the slower boats as the better light air boats slipped away from us. Eventually we chose the north side of the straits, and pressure built along Bowen Island to perhaps 10 knots. This caused a painful shift from the light #1 to our medium/heavy #1, with one bad tack thrown in for good measure. With only 7 people aboard, we were a little shy on crew, and sail changes were rougher than we are used to these days. A few more boats slipped by us, and some fervent swearing was heard in the back of the boat. Sorry folks!
The good news was that with the right sail combination up, and pressure finally up to Kotuku's preferred range, we started to engage our fleet again, and before long we were passing Rubato, and then Kiva, and the C&C 115s. We continued to do well on the beach, and over the course of the afternoon we could finally see the leaders again, mostly close to shore and working the north side. The part of the fleet that went south and west early got further and further behind.
Alex did a great job of forcing us to keep Kotuku's nose down and her boat speed up as the wind speed eased off in the afternoon. We actually did the first leeward end-around on Cu N Mara, a C&C 115, but it was a move that we would use again and again along the course. Good sailors don't pass to windward, apparently, if the the breeze is less than 8 knots and they are driving cruising boats. By the time we got to the first mark, Ballenas Island, we were in a mixed fleet of big and little boats. Even though it was dark--or perhaps because it was dark--it felt like we were in the middle of things as boats large and small went slipping by with their red or green lights indicating whether they were concerning, or whether they were just out with us enjoying the meteor showers.
"All hands on deck, we are rounding" calls Alex. Sleepy hands pile out of bunks as we hoist the Finger and begin to work downwind. I plot a rhumbline course for Entrance Island and we begin to show the fleet that while Kotuku may be sticky in the light stuff, she is dangerous downwind in any conditions.
We found ourselves passing big boats, (Beneteaus, Aerodynes) small boats (Olsons) and at one point getting rolled in the most awesome fashion by Strum, a modern 50 footer that somehow tangled with a flea--a french ultralight that thought they could hang with the big dogs tried to take them up. Or not. Some words were exchanged, and Strum disappeared in the dark, never to be seen again. What a fun run!
Dawn found us beating slowly up to Halibut Bank, having lost a couple of places to our fleet on a bad sail change in a big header that caused us to go from a spinnaker reach to a head sail that we could not seem to get up in the dark, tired as we were. Mojo (J-109)and Havoc (33' sport boat) ahead of us and Kiva too had slipped us past. Damn, work to do.
I could see that the boats ahead were being set massively low of the island, and so we fought to stay high, and still be fast. Kiva got below us, and we slipped by her and when we rounded we were on Havoc's heels and Mojo was just starting to leg out on the 22 mile reach to the finish. Then it went light, ultra light again.
The good news was that we could see our competition. Even Manana and Diva, the leaders were on the horizon. Ptolemy, the other Express 37 who had been way ahead was just to ahead and to windward. The C&Cs were not far behind us. And Dominatrix, the X-119 that Brandon and I once made an offer on was off the stern. Just not far enough.. Astral Plane, who we had struggled to stay close to in the daylight, was nowhere to be seen. (They packed it in and headed home under power, succumbing to the pull of a warm bed and some actual boat speed)
My vote was to stay high and protect the north, where I thought the wind was likely to come from. Alex was driving, although we were swapping helm regularly throughout the race with one of us navigating and the other driving. We found thin lanes of air that allowed us to protect our lead on Kiva, but Merlin came up on a hot tack in good air underneath us and cleaned our clock. Icon went with her, and we followed slowly behind them.
Mojo, who had been sailing low but directly at the finish came up suddenly and decided to try and roll us to windward, but Alex had seen enough. We rolled up our sleeves and got into a fist fight. With me trimming the kite, and John trimming the main, we somehow managed to have enough up when we needed it to close the door on them. Once, twice, three times, four times they tried to go above us. Head faking, swooping under us, rushing, threatening us with the long prod and their huge red kite. Never more than a pole length or two from our stern. But we were fired up and fighting and Alex was on them with every move. Between scraps he sat slumped casually over the wheel like he was tired and oblivious, but shifted gears fast as a cat when they powered up for a run at us. Finally they gybed away and I handed the sheet to Eli, my arms were Jello. And that was the last we saw of them, as their gybe out put them into bad current and our rear view mirror.
We finished at 12:56PM, after 26 hours of constant racing. Yes it was slow, we probably never saw hull speed. But it was sustained racing for 95 miles. I can't remember a race where we were head to head with such good competition, in such challenging conditions, for so long. We finished a few (70') boat lengths behind Neptunes Car, proving that this was truly a race to remember.
We finished 4th of 14 in our class, behind a J-109, an Express 37, and that C&C 115 that clobbered us in the final leg. We corrected over Ptolemy, and beat the rest of the class boat for boat even though we were slow boat in the class. We were 8th of 34 for the medium course race. Not a podium finish, but nothing to be ashamed of either. Every crew member contributed to our effort. Terry and Eli were relentless trimmers in the physically demanding work of fighting big sails in light air conditions. Becca's lasagna evaporated, as did her eggs and 7 of the 8 cinnamon rolls that she managed to cook before we ran out of propane. Trent kept us on course and pointed at the mark, and fought sails up and down the mast at all hours. And John trimmed main for pretty much the entire race without a break. Alex was Alex, and if this report doesn't make it damned clear, that man can sail.
Exhausted. Exhilarating. Worth every minute. We'll be back, in spite of good advice to the contrary.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Southern Straits Annual Yacht Race - Easter Weekend - West Vancouver Yacht Club, Canada
Here is the list of competitors so far. Some good boats for us to race against!
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Tom and Talia Bring us a Second
OK, so you won't see Tom Cawrse or Talia Cawrse Esarey on the crew list all that often. But on a shifty day like Saturday's Blakely rock benefit Regatta, youth and experience are a potent combination. With a combined age of less than 75, they average out in the middle of the normal Kotuku crew range. Except that Tali just turned 5.
Against my better judgement I entered Kotuku in the Blakely Benefit Regatta after my mom said
"Sure we'd like to go sailing." Janna's folks were game too even though their daughter was up on Whidbey Island for a 4 day writer's conference.
So after realizing that it wasn't going to rain too hard, and after racing back to the house to get the dacron #2 because the #1 was in the sail loft we loaded up the girls from 2 to 67, plus the dads from well, let's just say old to older, and headed out to the race course.
We got a nice conservative start with decent boat speed, crossed the line first with Eye Candy above us sailing higher and faster. (It was light, and this was a family race for God's sake!). We tacked and crossed the fleet resolved to follow Eye Candy. Turns out even with Tom driving well and us tacking furiously we just didn't have the power in the light stuff to stay with them. We sure did miss having the #1...
We rounded Blakely Rock second, which was nice for a change, and proceeded to sail into a monster hole.
Pretty much the entire fleet caught up to us under spinnaker while we flopped around with our "windseeker" (aka the #2). Luckily the wind died for most of them at West Point, and we had a hard slow beat back against tide and light fickle breezes. But we got there, drifting across the line more than an hour after Eye Candy crossed. Tom drove most of the way, but Talia did a couple of the final tacks to the committee boat, and we crossed the line with three generations of sailors smiling and exhausted. We all slept well last night.
Best part of the evening was when Burke texted us with the pleasant news that the family effort, while not pretty, was good enough for 2nd in our class. That was a nice bonus, appreciated by all. Except Talia of course. "Second again Dad, can't we do better?"
Where does she get that anyway?
Against my better judgement I entered Kotuku in the Blakely Benefit Regatta after my mom said
"Sure we'd like to go sailing." Janna's folks were game too even though their daughter was up on Whidbey Island for a 4 day writer's conference.
So after realizing that it wasn't going to rain too hard, and after racing back to the house to get the dacron #2 because the #1 was in the sail loft we loaded up the girls from 2 to 67, plus the dads from well, let's just say old to older, and headed out to the race course.
We got a nice conservative start with decent boat speed, crossed the line first with Eye Candy above us sailing higher and faster. (It was light, and this was a family race for God's sake!). We tacked and crossed the fleet resolved to follow Eye Candy. Turns out even with Tom driving well and us tacking furiously we just didn't have the power in the light stuff to stay with them. We sure did miss having the #1...
We rounded Blakely Rock second, which was nice for a change, and proceeded to sail into a monster hole.
Pretty much the entire fleet caught up to us under spinnaker while we flopped around with our "windseeker" (aka the #2). Luckily the wind died for most of them at West Point, and we had a hard slow beat back against tide and light fickle breezes. But we got there, drifting across the line more than an hour after Eye Candy crossed. Tom drove most of the way, but Talia did a couple of the final tacks to the committee boat, and we crossed the line with three generations of sailors smiling and exhausted. We all slept well last night.
Best part of the evening was when Burke texted us with the pleasant news that the family effort, while not pretty, was good enough for 2nd in our class. That was a nice bonus, appreciated by all. Except Talia of course. "Second again Dad, can't we do better?"
Where does she get that anyway?
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