Showing posts from April, 2012

Anxiety wrapped up in a big ball of awesome

by Andrea Mulder-Slater “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” I’ve always embraced this John Lennon quote. Ok, I’ll be honest. I wish I could embrace this John Lennon quote. If there’s anything being a mom has taught me, it’s how to go with the flow. Understand, this has not been an easy adage for me to adopt. As creative as I am, I’m still a list maker who dreams of organized sock drawers and an empty inbox. Instead, I’m lucky to find matching hosiery and I have 3083 email messages that silently mock me from the safety of my computer. Still, today – at our house - I floated with the current. Now that she’s three, I like to encourage my daughter to choose which art supplies she feels like working with. On this day, she dug out a few little pots of acrylic paint, some paintbrushes, small paper plates and oil pastels. While she laid out the materials, I filled a small bowl with water. Together my girl and I dabbed bright juicy c

Chickens freak me out

by Andrea Mulder-Slater I can’t express how happy I am to be living in the country, far away (at least 20 minutes) from civilization and the nearest Tim Hortons. The air is clean, the water is pure and the people who live nearby are kind and industrious. However, now that we live in the wilds, I’m finding there are certain requirements. From what I can tell so far, there are at least three. Number One: If you have a dog, it should be larger than a beaver and it should have significantly sharp teeth so it can fight off any and all eagle attacks. In fact, adopt a raccoon instead. Then, set it free. Number Two: If you see a coyote, you must kill it and place it at the end of your driveway and position it so it looks relaxed, or drugged. I’m not sure if this gesture is meant to attract more coyotes, or if the intent is to scare away additional coyotes. Either way, I need a gun. And a morphine drip. Number Three: You must “keep” chickens. And by keep chickens I mean,

Keeping the balance... with a dance move

by Andrea Mulder-Slater This week, I stubbed my toe on a hammer that had been forgotten in the previous night’s cleanup.  So much for childproofing. It was early - still dark outside - but (thanks to the irresistible scent of freshly brewed coffee) I was on the hunt for a cup of caffeine.  As I bent down to squeeze my throbbing foot, I backed firmly into the dining room table. I managed to stay upright only by employing a less-than-elegant twirl somewhat reminiscent of a move I once executed at a high school dance.    Then, I noticed Geoff – coffee mug in hand – smiling at me from his chair in the corner.  “Um. What are you doing?” he asked with a grin.  “Isn’t it obvious?” I smirked, “I’m practicing my balancing skills.” Maintaining a state of equilibrium has been a bit of a challenge these days.   We’ve gone from building a house on our own (what, are we nuts?) to living in the unfinished house we are still building, in a matter of months. 

And that is why the modeling career didn't pan out...

by Andrea Mulder-Slater Years ago - while on vacation in Ocean City, Maryland - a photographer approached me and asked if I would pose for a shoot he was working on. The client was a surf shop and all I had to do was sit on a board with a guy named Gabriel (or Mike, or something).  It was all very professional. I signed a form. My wardrobe consisted of my own jeans, a surf shirt, a hat worn backwards and a pair of Chuck Taylors. There was a crew, sort of. A girl was holding one of those aluminum foil umbrella things and there was a kid standing by to shoo the seagulls away. A tourist stopped to take pictures. I have to admit though; I figured the whole thing was bogus, until, a few weeks later when a copy of the ad (as it appeared in the The Baltimore Sun ) arrived in my mailbox. It was the beginning of a lucrative modeling career. Not for me you understand. But I think the guy that sat on the surfboard with me went on to do big things.  The problem is, I’m not (nor hav