It's about time I got on here and wasted everybody's time rambling through my innocuous day. Can you believe a Washington state driver's liscence lasts four years while the equivocant Montana model lasts seven? None of you care, though, because nearly everybody that reads this thing seems to live in Minnesota or Wisconsin, barring Brad in California and Annie in Connecticut... am I missing someone? I don't think Josh still gets on here, otherwise he'd be a close-by neighbor to complain to. Oh, how awful Lynnea must find all this grammatical mishappenings.
So I was told the other day by an 18-year-old engaged female coworker (born in Georgia, the country, not the state) that I should find a real job since I have a bachelor's degree. I was slightly shocked. I thought the real jobs simply included paychecks, and as I get a paycheck someitmes, I thought my job was real sometimes. To have an 18-year-old first-time-in-a-job'er telling you that a job is below you can really set you back... or I think it could. How my mother would love to hear that I'm discontent with my job, and I was for a single moment about two weeks ago. I was slicing through a piece of wheat bread, listing off vegetables for the customer to choose from when a raging torrent of hate overtook me. In that one moment, I hated making people's food. It was like the opposite of falling in love - momentary and yet frighteningly real. And then it passed and I was enjoying my job once again. I told myself if I ever have that feeling for more than a moment or with any regularity, I need to find a new job. Otherwise, I'll simply be content.
I'm not playing counterstrike yet with the other lads, and I haven't any offspring to show off (please Lynnea, laugh at that pun), so all I can do is try to make my life funny, which at 23 working in an 18-year-old's world I am funny. That's why I'm growing a beard. I need to look 23, or in my case at least 19, to bring myself a little respect. I mean, all great men have had facial hair, and so the equation must go that being great means having good facial hair. Abraham Lincoln, hello! Moses. Nebuchadnezzer. Jimmy Hendrix. Earl from My Name is Earl. You know the list goes on. I can't think of a clean-shaven worthwhile man... that'll get me in trouble.
I don't remember how much I've talked about the new church I'm going to, but it's sweet to be around people again, and most of them are our age, and they all went to a little Bible school in Portland, so it's great. Our "home community" consists of chatting about our favorite colors and reading Blue Like Jazz. They even tell me that I can play the banjo for a worship set (I know they're just being nice, but I like nice people, like my grandma... she's really nice). So, now that you've heard all about southwestern Washington, minus the crappy length of driver permit renewal stuff, now you all want to come live out here, right? Okay, enough rambling and slaughtering the English language. I've gotta go watch the nightly news anyway. Brian Williams ain't no Tom Brokaw. It's sad, really. I mean that I care about who reads the teleprompter on the national evening news. But I'm not sad, I'm funny, because I'm 23 and have absolutely nothing important to say right now. I'm like you guys minus the things that keep you busy. Just think of it that way. Okay, toodle-oo.

Smiling Children! Here are the cuties smiling on command. They also were playing under a table fort for the first time. I know I am biased, but those are some cute kids. Praise God they get there looks from their mother!

Counterstrike! Now people may actually comment post. I must say it is a bit peculiar that we have Hubka spill his guts, see a picture of a unborn babe, hear of a friend who has a perfect 4.0, or have a update on a college friend who has lost a sibling and we fail to respond but for a couple of lines. Then COUNTERSTRIKE is reborn and the blog becomes our instant messenger. I have never played the game, but it must be unbelievable. At this point some may be tempted to respond with an enticing comment encouraging me to get in the clan. Save your keyboards my friends, I am a family man!

Speaking of which, my daughters are giving me quite a thrill these days. By thrill I mean heart attack. They have long ago mastered the art of walking/running. Since that no longer holds appeal to them, they have taken to the new adventures of climbing. This may sound innocent enough to you, but seeing you child a foot off a hard wood floor and knowing she has minimal balance. Let me just say I am a lot faster then I realized. Impending doom for your child has a way of making you react fast. The other new skill my daughters learned recently is how to smile on command. They have the weirdest and cutest smiles when they are trying to smile. It is adorable. I have some pictures that I will post soon.

In other news my wife is an adorable prego. She has this type of belly the shoots straight out when she is pregnant. Some ladies take a long time to "show," but not my wife. She literally has that "I swallowed a bowling ball" look right away. I probably could find a picture of that too, but my wife would not appreciate that being posted.

In even more other news I just finished leading a study on the book Margins. This was a delightful book that repeated its ideas far too often, but had some very good things to say. However, it lack any true ability to sustain discussion. So if you are ever doing a book study that is formatted heavily on conversation - Margin is not your book.

I got to get back to work.

2 short days + 4 long hours = 24!
24 is starting up this Sunday and Monday nights! DON"T forget to watch! Its gonna be great!
Folkestad

Here she is. She is not much more then skin and bones, but she is healthy. 13 ounces is what they guess her weight to be. I cannot even begin to describe what I feel when I look at this picture. I am so excited to have her in the world.

WOW! I just found out that I am having a third girl. Jessica and I are so excited. However, I realize that in 13 years I will hope for death. I love being a dad to daughters, but can you imagine life as a male with three teenage girls of very similar ages? Anyway that is the future. Right know I cannot be more excited about having another precious little girl to raise. If I can find away to scan in our last ultra sound pics I will post them. We had a 4-d image made and it is unreal what you can see. Till then. Papi Norton

Comedy Sportz This Friday
Hey everyone in the Twin Cities. Kate and I are coming down for my grandma's 80th birthday. NONE of you are invited to the party. However, Friday night Kate, myself and yonger brother are goning to head over to Comedy Sportz in uptown. If anyone wants to join us, let me know. I think that we will be doing the 10:30 show, but I am not sure yet. Maybe the 8:00. If you are interested, let me know.

Folkestad

I must keep my holiday traditions alive since this was my first Christmas away from Wyoming, so I'm writing a New Year's Day post, our first of 2006, unless somebody else is weird enough to be writing on this thing and just posts it in another time zone or changes the post time. I realized I haven't blogged in nearly a month. I can't promise this will be a developing pattern, but you can only hope. So, as I always do, I must indulge a short and sentimental moment to remember the past year, for myself and maybe a little bit for you.
We had some weddings, not that I need to recount, but at this time last year there were no Kurbises or Burtons or Millers or Seversons or Douglases (did I get that one right?) or Manns, or the Johnsons, at least not with us (sorry if I forgot someone). Some of us had a significant other that is no longer a part of our lives (a year ago Lynnea was writing about her and Krista reading my girlfriend's blog, something Molly said I'm not supposed to read because it makes me depressed, and so I haven't since July). I guess I can't think of anybody that had a kid last year, except Gabe is ready to start off that category for this year. The rest of the newly-weds still have a wide berth to have a little one join their family. Some people returned to us from far away, and some people seemed to have left. I know I'm being vague and stupid, but I had a glass of sparkling cider after a beer after a root beer (don't drink beer after root beer because you remember how it doesn't taste good, or not right, or whatever). A year ago I had never worked at Quiznos. Lynnea wasn't a Crown prof. And I could go on and on like I used to, but we're not getting any younger, and there's probably not a lot of interest left in this thing. I mean, I was out of it enough to have be unaware that Sarah Bubna was in Socal with Ms. Fowler until just this morning. You learn a lot when you chat with a certain Krista Erickson. (Sorry to hear the surprise party wasn't so surprising, Lynnea - I made sure not to comment on it on here, not that Krista reads this anymore).
I dare you to try and imagine this year. Not in the John Lennon way, without religion and heaven and whatever else, but seriously try to put together even the next month in your mind. It's startling how fast we fly into the future with no headlights, at least nothing that says what's really out there (if I can speak without severe philosophical inquiries drawn from that last statement).
I don't know about you guys, but a lot of things didn't go the way I imagined when we were all still together. It may have just dawned on me lately that college is over. Hideous, I know, for here I sit with my Old Gym hoodie on, as I have slowly been shedding the wares of my college career, except there's nothing that beats a second East hoodie or a PAH print that nobody gets out here. Dr. Ratledge has a hundred new faces to concern himself with now, tuliweeds and all - I don't know if I even want to go back anymore. Everyone keeps asking when I'm going back to school, but I just don't have it in me anymore. This is what happens when a traditionalist loses the most stable one day of his calendar year.
It's a round about way of saying it, but Happy New Year, I guess. Don't think I'm down about things, but don't write me off as a kook just yet, either. Give me one more year when you occasionally check this thing that sees a comment or two on every other blog that may have days and weeks before and behind it without anything but silence, because I guess that's when we're all out living our lives like we're supposed to be, not being nosy or sappy on here like I'm being or have been. I'll quit while I'm ahead. So, Pearl Harbor sucks, and I miss you. Happy New Year.