Last night’s fireworks extravaganza must have worn everyone out because, for the first time in what felt like forever, everyone slept in. Even the girls. Nobody was about to question such a rare blessing, so we enjoyed a slow morning together before settling in to watch some of the World Cup. Before that, though, I couldn’t help but notice just how much Joni has changed over the past few months. She’s in what has to be her cutest phase yet. She’s confidently walking everywhere, learning new words almost daily, and shamelessly flirting with every stranger she meets. Cashiers, waitresses, old fishermen, it doesn’t matter. She flashes that smile, waves enthusiastically, and suddenly has another admirer. She’s becoming such a fun little person. Evie, on the other hand, is still in what I would consider my least favorite baby stage. Communication consists almost entirely of crying, sleep remains a work in progress, and constipation has joined the list of daily adventures. Thankfully she’s beginning to develop a predictable rhythm with only a couple nighttime feedings, so we’re slowly moving in the right direction.
The United States is hosting the World Cup this year, so soccer has become a regular part of our vacation. Today’s match between England and Mexico turned into an instant classic. England carried a one-goal lead into halftime before receiving a red card almost immediately after the second half began. For the next forty-five minutes they defended wave after wave of relentless Mexican attacks. Every clearance, every save, and every counterattack ratcheted up the tension until the final whistle finally blew. It was one of those games that reminds you why sports can be so captivating.
Still buzzing from the match, we headed to one of my favorite Ketchikan traditions: the annual all-you-can-eat crab feast at George Inlet Lodge. The entire family came along, and as usual, we made quick work of the crab while many of our tourist counterparts cautiously worked through their first few legs. 
The lodge holds a crab shell stacking competition every year, and naturally our table took home the title. Years of Alaskan experience finally paid off. The best part, though, was watching Joni happily devour every piece of crab I could crack open for her. She sat patiently waiting for the next bite and ate it as fast as I could shell it. That’s my Alaskan girl. 
After consuming what was probably an irresponsible amount of crab, we stopped by Hole in the Wall Bar for our traditional post-crab drink. The weather had finally cooperated, and everyone enjoyed sitting outside overlooking the water before making the long drive home. Throughout the day Joni continued charming nearly everyone she met. I swear she now knows more people in Ketchikan than I do. The evening ended with a family game of Risk, where everyone once again underestimated my willingness to deceive, betray alliances, and quietly conquer the world. They really should know better by now.
Tomorrow was supposed to be our annual fishing trip, but Ketchikan weather reminded us who’s actually in charge. We woke to small craft advisories and the disappointing news that our charter had been canceled. We were all bummed. To make matters worse, the U.S. Men’s National Team followed it up by getting thoroughly outplayed by Belgium in the World Cup despite our enthusiastic cheering from the couch. Apparently our support only goes so far.
With our outdoor plans ruined, we pivoted to another family tradition: board games. What started as a friendly game of Monopoly gradually evolved into exactly what Monopoly always becomes, dramatic negotiations, accusations of unfair trades, loud laughter, pretend hurt feelings, and increasingly questionable financial decisions. The weather outside was miserable, but inside nobody really cared. We were all together, and that was enough.
That evening my mom once again reminded us why nobody ever leaves her house hungry. She made her famous ginger-glazed salmon, a meal that somehow tastes just as incredible every single time. As dinner stretched on, conversation naturally drifted toward politics. Before long, voices grew louder, tabletops were pounded for emphasis, and everyone became just a little more passionate after a couple of drinks. It was spirited, occasionally intense, and probably sounded alarming to anyone listening from another room. Yet that’s one of the things I love most about my family. We can argue passionately, completely disagree with one another, accuse the other side of losing their minds, and then pour another drink, laugh, and move on. There are no lasting grudges, just people who care deeply about each other and aren’t afraid to speak honestly. Days like this remind me how lucky I am. Man, I love being home. Stay tuned for more photos.
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