Andrea Mulder-Slater

by Andrea Mulder-Slater I still remember the first time I saw the Easter Bunny. Not that there was ever a second time and to be honest, it wasn’t really the Easter Bunny. It was rather a 6’2” Scotsman with a really big rabbit suit. The accent gave him away. I knew Santa Claus had a Scottish accent, but the Easter Bunny?  No, even at five – I knew better. Our next-door neighbour Philip, was a man of many talents. The most useful was his ability to transform himself into Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and something that resembled a hedgehog in a two-piece bathing suit.  I still don't understood that holiday. Philip had a deal with the parents on our block. They would leave the doors open on the eve of every major holiday, so he could wander through the houses, nibble on cookies, drink some spiked milk and deposit an egg or two for the children. It was the 1970s . Easter is an occasion of springtime festivals involving yellow marshmallow chicks and pink

by Andrea Mulder-Slater I recently read somewhere that 1 in 11 people worldwide are active on Facebook and of these people, more than 50% log on everyday. Evidently, this translates into more than 700 billion minutes (per month) that human beings are spending on the social network. I am one of the 600 or so million users. This, quite frankly, scares me. I’ve always been somewhat of a non-conformist. As a high school kid, I styled my hair spiky, adorned myself with my father’s old suit vests and wore my jeans frayed at the bottom, so they fell just slightly above my ankles. I prided myself in looking unusual and acting dissimilar to the other kids in the playground. As a college-aged kid, I went to art school. As an adult, I am considering home schooling my daughter. Yet, here I am, swimming amongst the Hoi polloi. What happened? Truth is, I can’t remember the exact moment I joined the masses. So it is with addictions I guess. But I do know this… like a dutiful addict, I recruit