3 Reasons Why Canadians Don't Live in Texas

Hi, my name is Allison. I'm 20 years old and am part Texan (originally) and part Canadian (legally). You could say I'm a rare hybrid species, cursed with the fluctuating skin of a Frost Giant and Dust Devil. I am in constant conflict of self identity. Who am I? Even though I came from Texas, was I supposed to come from Canada? Should I be riding horses to work or polar bears? These questions are that which I cannot answer for.

What I can answer for is this: Why don't Canadians live in Texas? I've found that only I, being the freak hybrid TexaCanadian I am, can answer this. You see, I travel to Canada often. Very often. And I've come up with a short list of why the Frost Giants stay away from this beautiful, gun-abounding state-that-should-be-a-country. Let us assume that the following reasons all derive from the fact that it is so flipping hot in Texas.

1. Ventilation. 
Look. The first thing you want to do after work when you get into your car is to turn the A/C on maximum overdrive, right? WRONG. Do not do this. Time and time again, I've learned this cruel and unfortunate outcome: your A/C unit does not contain ice. It contains the dust of the earth, accumulated from 8 hours of nesting in the Texan dust storms. And it will pummel into your eyes at a thousand miles (or 1,609.34 kilometers) an hour until your sensitive retinas see only the Saharan Desert.

2. Driving.
The Texan motto is Friendship. Literally, that's what Texas means. Did you know that? (Thanks, Google.) But the Sun is not friendly to us ever so this brings us to the second reason why Canadians don't want to live in Texas: it is so blistering hot that our roads melt. Guys. Our tar melts. It gets stuck to your tires and it takes half a century of car washes to get that junk off. Tarmac starts melting at like 100'F (40'C for you special people out there). As we Texans like to say: That ain't right.

3. Allergies.
Sure, everyone has allergies to something. But what about the sun?! That's right. I thought this to be only a myth until yesterday when my boss came back from working outside in the mid-afternoon heat. She had rashes all over her neck and arms and called them "heat rashes". HEAT RASHES. Apparently, if you sweat too much, your skin pores become blocked and leak into skin tissue which makes your skin really red, bumpy and itchy. Not even a Texan wants to live in Texas after hearing something like that.

I think Canadians only need these three reasons to permanently decide to never ever ever live here. Which is a good decision. And I'm sure I haven't helped myself out much with my identity crisis. Because now I've horrified my Canadian self and need to quickly pack my bags and fly North for the summers. But my Texan self scoffs at the weakness of the opposing side and boasts of its thick skin and tough stuff.

But in the end, it's a fine life.

Even though I might need therapy now.

The Bubble Busters

Today, my church threw their very first Bubble Bowl Tournament. It's like soccer, except in bubble suits! I didn't sign up because I didn't want to get mowed over by people, but it turns out that my brother's team needed someone to fill in and I decided it might be a good story to tell people in the future. You know, of getting mowed over by a bubble.

AND SO IT IS:

Watching from the bleachers and strategizing a way to dominate our opponent was easy. But actually being on the gym floor inside a claustrophobic bubble the weight of a few hobbits was definitely not easy. I had to put my arms through straps and hold onto handles as I lugged the thing around. When the soccer ball dropped to initiate the game, I quickly found out how it felt like to depend on a plastic bubble to keep me from death. Have you ever done that? Put your complete faith in a bubble? That is a feeling you will never forget.

We lost both games, but I didn't mind because by the second go-around I was having fun. When my jams came on, you could see a blue bubble dancing with two wobbly feet. That was me. Totally me.

Shortly after the first game, though, one of our opponents barreled into the corner of the gym and wrecked his knees up pretty bad. I don't know what came over me as I approached him but I said, "Would you like us to pray for you?" I figured he would say no, and that was that. Or if he said yes, then we could just do that I'll-pray-for-you-in-my-head thing during the next part of the game. He did say yes, but I found myself kneeling over and praying aloud for his knees to heal because, well why not? People might think, "Why would Jesus care about an injury from a tournament? He doesn't even care about a silly bubble bowl." But here's the thing that I pieced together as I prayed.

The Bubble Bowl is fun. Like...really fun. And I think a lot of people forget just how fun God is. Yeah! He's fun! Where do you think the word comes from? Someone's had to laugh first for us to know what it even is. God wants us to have fun--the Christian lifestyle is not boring. And when there's an injury in the midst of said fun, why not just pray for it? God wants to heal us anyway, and what better reason to have fun in His name? Mowing over people with bubbles?

When I was done, I realized everyone that was in the vicinity of his injury came and prayed for him, too. There were at least five other people praying out loud with me, and it blew me away. Not in the sense that I didn't expect it, but just how much I loved how our church can pray at an out-of-church event with just as much passion as they would during praise and worship.

I quickly became inspired to write about it as everyone got up and continued on like praying was just a natural thing to do--just like breathing. I'm really proud of everyone in our church, and even anyone who simply prays out loud outside of church for anything. It's bold, it's inspiring and it's effective.

It makes for a very, very fine life!

Ernie and Me; The Time I Met a Veteran

This is Ernie Andrus. He's 91 years old and a World War II veteran, and he likes to run marathons.

Ernie here, who by the way is adorable (perhaps the strangest thing I've ever said about an elderly man but seriously--this chap is every bit of the word), walked into the Design Shop today to order some shirts for a marathon he's running. At first I was like, "Cool beans." And then he said he was a WWII veteran and then I was like, "COOL BEANS."

Recently since after watching the incredible true story on big screen, Unbroken (I recommend all humans to see that movie), I've been ensnared by the stories of WWII survivors and soldiers. After seeing the movie, I immediately prayed to meet a veteran in person and to talk to him about his experiences. I've no idea why it was so suddenly important to me, but all I knew at that time was that the chance was slim because these chaps have lived a long life and are waiting for Jesus to pick 'em up for coffee one day. So my time was running thin.

Little did I know that on this day, a WWII veteran would walk right into my workplace. I didn't have to go anywhere! Silly as it may sound, I think God knew I would be overwhelmingly blessed to meet Ernie, so He made it happen. What an incredibly loving God, down to the very last detail of our lives!

Anyway, as I listened to Ernie from afar (for the first time in my life, I was shy), he said he's running a marathon from California all the way to Florida. People. This man is 91. I can't even run two miles at the gym without falling off the elliptical.

He continued by saying it was for raising funds for an old WWII ship he wants to bring back to Normandy in 2019 to celebrate the 75th anniversary of D-Day (How cool is that?!).

1,051 USS LST's were built during WWII. The LST 325 (seen above) is the only one left that has been restored and is still operational.

And somehow, somehow, his trail lead straight through our tiny little town in west Texas where he just happened to want shirts for his marathon where I just happened to work.

After sheepishly watching him talk, I courageously (and very childishly) asked if I could take a picture with him. I blushed feeling so embarrassed to ask like he was a celebrity. But he was so kind in response and happily took the picture with me (as seen at the very top). What more, without me even having to ask, he told me what he did in the war and gave me a piece of paper that explained the intention of his marathon.

Ernie was part of a medic team in WWII and sailed on a boat called the USS LST, just like the LST 325 shown above. Who knows what sights he saw as a medic, but his job was sailing across the ocean to Saipan to pick up the wounded soldiers and aid them. He told me about how the Japanese would kill themselves for the sake of honor, and that it was perhaps the worst area where it most often occurred.

Of course I didn't have enough time to sit down and hear his stories for days and days (because I really would have listened to him speak until the cows would come home), but I will never forget having met such a kind, strangely athletic and elderly adorable man like Ernie Andrus!

And it would be cruel of me not to urge you, my fellow readers, to check out his website for his marathon at Coast2CoastRuns.com! This man is only trying to follow his dreams even at the age of 91 (which screams at the rest of us to pursue without waiting or giving up especially due to age), and if you could donate to help him reach his goal, then I'm sure he'd have a mighty swell time telling Jesus all about his success over a fine cup of coffee.

God knows he's sure lived a fine life, and a finer one yet to come!

Thank you, Ernie!

Why Jesus Man is Best Superhero

Dear fellow readers,

Today I am going to tell you why Jesus Man is Best Superhero. Some of you may be asking, who is Jesus Man? Well...

Jesus Man is a superhero. He is feared among all his enemies and is known to be the undefeated champion of Justice!

His abilities include (but are not limited to): Instant Teleportation, Invisibility, Lightning-fast Speed, Danger Senses, Enhanced Memory, Fire Resistance, Flight, Rapid Cellular Regeneration, Levitation, Nova Force, Phasing, Precognition, Resurrection, Seismic Power, Summoning Power, Super Strength, Time-frame Control, Telepathy, and Weapons Master.

Although Jesus Man is obviously the most decked-out superhero to ever be (yes, that means he's got more superpowers than Deadpool!), the world hardly knows his true name. Jesus Man's true identity, when he's not being a superhero is actually being a superhero but without a cape on, and he calls himself Jesus. Jesus Man's daily occupation is saving the planet though, so he hasn't hung his cape in a good two thousand years or so.

But! There is one very important thing you should know about Jesus Man.

It is that, for every single superhero you have seen in the comics and movies, he gave a little bit of his superpowers to that hero. Where do you think Captain America got his courage, and his stifling good looks? Where do you think Iron Man got his scientific genius, or the Hulk's desire to smash all the bad things? Superman could have never been so super without Jesus Man. And Batman wouldn't be so "Where's the detonator?"-dark-raspy-voice-kind-of cool if it weren't for him, too. 

You see, there is a little bit of Jesus Man in all the superheroes. And there's a little bit of him in you, too! That means...you are a superhero, and you know what? Since Jesus Man gave away a good portion of his superpowers to everyone, he now needs your help to make this world a better place.

And this is why Jesus Man is Best Superhero.

Because He wants each and every one of you to help Him save the day! 

So don't let Him down, SuperPeople! LET'S GO SAVE THE DAY!

The Extreme Story of Boogie-Boarding Texans

This is a story about the first female Texan of twinly nature to have ever ridden...a wave. Brace yourselves, for it has been a long time since such a story as this has ever been told.

Once upon a time (two weeks ago), there were siblings of Texans who had never been across the great waters of the Earth before (water was only a thing of myth anyway). But it seemed upon this very Christmas season that their father bestowed the gift of adventuring across such myths, and the band of siblings soon discovered a realm called "Costa Rica".

Costa Rica was a land overflowing with green-colored plants and tall bushes they called "trees", which intrigued the siblings, for they had never seen anything of the sort in Texas before. They also discovered that masses of mythological water hugged the edges of the land, never-ending, and it moved as if it were alive...

The siblings were not dismayed though. Herein they found their courage! They seized the boards of boogieing and attacked the mass of water with all their might!

Though the sister of the band of siblings observed from afar upon sandy land. She was curious of these massive movements that the locals called "waves". She watched as they arose from the depths of darkness and swallowed her brothers in a crash of thunder. Gaping, she thought surely they were dead.

But lo'! There, hovering upon the boards of boogieing, they survived the waves and laughter bellowed throughout the waters! How can this be? The sister thought. I must learn to tame such a beast as well. For if my brothers can do this...I can do it better!

So the sister seized a board of boogieing and cast herself into the "ocean", swimming as fast as she knew how to reach her brothers before a wave overthrew her courage. Just before she reached them, a wave of doom came from amidst the darkness and hurled the poor sister into the waters.

She burst to the surface, gasping and wheezing, for not only did she swallow perhaps half the ocean itself, she discovered a searing pain within her eyes. Was this the "salt" her brothers warned her about? It was as if the fires of Mordor resided inside her most vulnerable eye and nose holes.

But this did not stop her. Her courage was re-fueled by anger against the ocean. I am going to tame a wave, if it is the last thing I do!

And so it was the last thing she did because a wave swallowed her up and she was never to be found again.

Just kidding. Obviously, after constantly failing all afternoon long, she was able to catch a wave and ride it all the way to the shore on her boogie board and it was perhaps one of the most glorifying moments in all her life.

The End!

P.S: Her brothers were exposed to too much salt water and turned into ravaging ocean monsters that now lurk the shores of Costa Rica.

The THE End!

The Road to El Canadado

Not many people get to experience what it’s like driving across America, which is sad because I think everyone should get out and just travel in their own country to get to know it better; know where you come from! So I’ll just get straight to the point and describe the experience for you—that is, if you drove across it with just you and your twin brother.

First of all, let’s talk about the requirements for traveling 1,000 miles North into Canada with your twin brother: food. Lots and lots of food. And not just normal food—nobody wants to eat normal food sitting in a car for 25 hours. No, you want junk food. This consists of  2 packs of Sunny D, 1 pack of Hawaiian Punch, a huge box of Oatmeal Cream Pies, 3 boxes of family-sized Cheez-Its, fudge-covered Graham crackers, strawberry Pop Tarts, a bag of Cheetos, and definitely don’t forget the Swiss Rolls.

After acquiring a good amount of calorie-infested delights, prepare your vehicle with every sort of electronic device you may possess.  Laptops, headphones, auxiliary cords, handheld videogame devices, chargers…and then you’re ready to go—essentially.

Now the trip to El Canadado ain’t easy. There’s  5 states to cross, not to mention Texas is larger to get out of than any of them. Oklahoma’s roads are as rough as Chuck Norris opening a walnut with his fists and Kansas is so boring it’ll probably make you fall asleep as you drive. So make sure you get your twin brother to do silly things with you to avoid said sleeping, such as screaming when passing cars on a small road with on-coming traffic, spontaneously leaping from your car to climb around a random train beside the road, and creepily exchanging crooked glances at the passengers you pass by on the interstates.

After God smiles upon you leaving Kansas, brace yourselves for turtle-state Nebraska where snails drive faster than you will, because their speed limits are exactly as slow as I’m making them sound like. But after Nebraska then it should be smooth sailing through South and North Dakota where everything suddenly turns green and lush—so just picture it like Texas but the exact opposite. And then you can actually play “I Spy With My Little Eye…” with your twin brother without always saying “something yellow”.

25 hours and 20,000 calories since your start, you’ll finally end up in Canada where it will always be cold or infested with mosquitoes out to suck the American burgers straight out of your veins. The drive is definitely worth it, eh?

So go on, my fellow reader! Grab a twin (or your doppelganger) and drive across your country! And don't you dare forget about the Cheez-Its.

I Am Not an Artist

I am not an artist.

Said nobody about me ever.

Which is funny because even though I never tell myself that, I've been questioning it a lot. What makes someone an artist in the eyes of another person? Is my artwork really that good enough for others to recognize me as an "artist"? 

I've been drawing ever since I could remember--which dates way back to like the first grade, where I brought a little plastic toy to school (a Neopet, because I was insanely into those and probably need therapy now because of it), and I sat it down in front of me and started drawing it. Not even kidding, at least half the class came to breathe over my shoulder as I drew. If I could find that drawing now, I'd probably laugh at it's poor proportions and zero shading technique--but considering I was around 7 years old, I suppose it's not too shabby.

By the time I was in high school, I started painting and drawing far more complex things. Instead of plastic toys, it was more like Iron Man and any really cool-looking angel dude. I drew during class all the time. I remember in history class we were going over an extremely important test review, in which I knew most of the answers to, so I doodled people and angels and eyes and whatever all over the margins. I hadn't realized we'd have to turn in the review to the teacher once we were finished, and I was a bit worried because I drew everything by pen so I couldn't erase anything! But when the teacher got it, he loudly spoke from his desk to me, "Allison, I'm curious about what you'll draw on your next test review!" And he wasn't even mad. 

I received the Best Drawing award in my art class when I was a senior, which was probably one of the greatest feats I've ever accomplished in sight of being an "artist" only because I loved my art teacher and wanted him to see how much potential I had. 

When I graduated, I was voted Best Artist in our class of 2012--and I was astonished as to how many people even knew my name to vote it.

But.

After I graduated and moved to Canada for bible school, I slowly forgot how often I loved to draw and even paint. I was so focused on the dreams of others that I forgot about my own. When I moved back to Texas, it took a long time till I realized that I felt drained for not even crafting my own angels or dragons on paper.

The reason why I'm sharing all of this isn't because I want to put myself in a spotlight--understand that much at least! But if I could have you walk away with one thing from this post, I'd say: Don't forget your own dreams in support of someone else's. 

About a week ago I was hanging out with my awesome sister-in-law Tammy, and she wanted me to individually draw the letters for Happy Easter. I was like, heck yeah I can do that! But it only took the first couple of letters before my forehead was planted into her table and I was on the verge of tears. WHAT HAD BECOME OF ME?! They were just simple letters! But for some reason I just felt like I couldn't get them right, that I was letting her down because she might have high expectations of me. I should have never felt like that, but I did! Anyone who even knows me to the slightest bit of a degree probably knows that I can draw. That's a lot of pressure in itself, and I was feeling it.

Well, after having had such a miserable time drawing something as simple as lines, I decided to make up for it a few days ago. I wanted to make sure I could still be called an artist by anyone who thought me so.

I took out my watercolors and just went ape crazy in three hours, and finally turned out with the painting you see above! Of course it's nothing worth gasping and weeping out of sheer artistic revelation at, but to me the result showed me I am too an artist! I looked at no references for such a painting. I just listened to the soundtrack from Narnia and BAM. A mysterious person with a red cape in a storm of some sort! Who even knows what that means!

So please, my dear readers, know that if you have a passion for something, pursue it. Pursue it above the desperate attention of others' dreams. If you like to draw, write, golf, swim, bake cupcakes--do those things, lest you forget what God has designed to bring you personal joy.

Lest you forget the fine, fine life!