Dallas Eavesdropper.

If you are an Anglophile, you've probably always dreamed of experiencing a real tea.

And by "tea," I don't mean the substance; I mean the event.  A formal, ritualized sort of thing that marks a discernible break in the day.  And many cute props.  Why don't more Americans do tea?  I'm bringing it back.

Or at least, the Dallas Arboretum is.  Austinites?  It pains me to say this, but the Austin Arboretum is nothing like the Dallas Arboretum.  Let me put that more clearly.  Dallas Arboretum > Austin Arboretum. 

I visited the Dallas Arboretum last week with my mother and sister-in-law, and guys, would you believe that their arboretum is an actual habitat for trees (and many other plants)?  I'm just as shocked as you are!

It's so easy to be a smug Austinite, so proud of our city's hippie culture and our love for living things.  Especially since we assume the rest of Texas hates nature.  But at the end of the day, it's our arboretum that is a big shopping mall -- not Dallas's.

Anyway.  When we drove up, I was so taken aback by all the flowers, and duly confused by the lack of Gaps and Starbucks, that I forgot to take pictures.  But!  We were there to have tea, and by the time we were seated in a gorgeous old mansion, I came to my senses.

My sweet sister-in-law booked this tea for us, my first tea ever.  It was served in a few courses, with finger sandwiches, tarts, even a mini gingerbread house.  As someone who spent roughly six years of her life studying Victorian England, it was all geekily thrilling.

After tea, we walked around the DeGolyer Home, also at the Arboretum. "But who's DeGolyer?"  Eh, I'm not exactly sure.  A Texas philanthropist, I gather.  (Thank you Wikipedia).  Oh, and an obsessive book collector.  Which we'll get to in a moment.

This is one of my favorite pictures from our little tour.  I took it inside one of the bedrooms -- perhaps these belonged to Mrs. DeGolyer?  All I know is, like tea, we should have never abandoned hats.

I wish you could see this Mrs. Clause statue in full.  You can make out just a hint of sassiness on her face here, but her body language is totally hilarious.  I've never seen a Mrs. Clause statuette (or painting, or Christmas ornament, or any other rendering) like it.  She's got a hand on her hip, and is basically saying, "What-ever, Santa." Like she's just so over it, which, 364 days out of the year, she may be.

Can't believe I saw this newspaper clipping in person!

Why is this gingerbread person + stocking oddly foreboding?

OH. This was what I wanted to show you.  Sorry the picture's a little bit blurry.  This library, where Mr. DeGolyer philanthropist / book worm / collector of sassy Mrs. Clauses kept all of his literature, had two secret panels!  Here's one of them.  I'm not sure where they led.  To a speakeasy?  Let's say speakeasy.

Haha. This one was not taken at tea -- this photograph was captured at the opposite of tea, i.e., at a hick bar in Grapevine that night, where Ross and I and a bunch of friends spent New Year's. It should have been terrifying, but ended up being fantastic (note the lei I am wearing). Mostly because of the hick bar's very serious karaoke contingent.

Three firsts that happened on New Year's Day.

Not gonna lie -- this post is sappy. Venture forth if you dare!

(I told Ross he looked very Punch-Drunk Love here.)

For all of its usual resolutions, its vigorous predictions, its fireworks punctuating last year's memories and leaving an open, empty slate on which to draw new ones, this New Year's -- New Year's 2011 -- was my out-with-the-oldiest and in-with-the-newiest of all. 

On New Year's Day, two of my dearest friends had a baby.
Her name is Tallulah, her mom is an African dancer, and her dad is a drummer in Ross's band.  Both are teachers, and both have a distinct fondness for Bill Murray.  His portrait presides over their living room. 

And really, you should see Tallulah's mom.  She is a total 1970s daydream.  Dad, on the other hand, is a taller, buffer Buddy Holly.  What I'm saying is, this baby has no choice but to be a badass. 

On New Year's Day, one of Ross's oldest friends got married. 
It happened in a little living room in Grapevine, Texas.  I cried when the bride and groom kissed.  It's an unpopular time to cry.  Because at weddings, as you know and I both know, that's the Big Finish: It's happy, and it's triumphant.  (And sometimes awkward).  

But this kiss was just a teensy bit longer than most Polite Altar Kisses.  Just a few moments more, and it would have been a Make-Out Kiss, and the realness, the sincerity of it, was deeply moving to me. 

I guess I cried because you don't see a wedding kiss like that very often.

(Ross and I took that 'prom photo' above at that wedding, too).

On New Year's Day, my Mom and Dad celebrated their anniversary.
Ok, this one happens every year.  But while we're talking about births and weddings, I thought we should get ol' Tom and Christi in on the fun, too!

This is one of my favorite photos of Mom when she was my age. It's the first picture where I realized I looked like her.  Isn't that funny?  I can't tell you how many people walked up to us at the Bleet-Up and remarked on our resemblance -- "oh my Gawd, you two are the spitting image!!" -- but really, it's only been in the last year or so that I've been able to see it.  

I always joked with my Mom that she was holding her cheekbones hostage from her only daughter, nay, only child, so I'm grateful this is finally beginning to happen.  (Although the eyes that scrunch up and 98% disappear in a fit of laughter come express delivered from Dad, and I've always secretly loved that).

* * *

Man.  New Year's has a way of making a gal sentimental, non?  As do periods!  Just kidding.  (Not at all kidding). 

OH.  Before I wrap up here.  I read one of the books you all recommended back in November, Special Topics in Calamity Physics.  I haven't been gripped by a book like that in a very long time, as in, I got all up in the Amazon discussion boards and totally went to town with other obsessives.  

If you would like to borrow it, I have a copy.  I'm sure you fellow book nerds have a long list of new releases to tackle already, but really, you must read this one.  If anything so I can hold you hostage afterwards and pry crucial opinions on specific plot points out of your brain.  I mean, have a discussion group!

Me and the moody flowers.

You all are probably sick of looking at my mug by now. But look!:

This is a pic I took with my relatively new Diana camera, which I'm crazy about. 

I accidentally double-exposed this picture when I took it. It was the day after I bought this strange little flower plant, which literally closes up its blossoms in the slightest amount shade, then bursts them back open again when it is receiving direct sun rays.

When I bought the plant, I carried it to my car, and walked through some shade. That was roughly 20 feet. 

Then, I drove exactly three blocks to my house. 

During this time, the blossoms were all, "oh hell no" and immediately closed up.

Because they spent a grueling four minutes without sunshine!

Can you believe a flower is that sensitive to light? You probably can, but this is my very first time to buy and attempt to take care of flowers. Isn't that sad?

Things are about to majorly turn around though here at Eavesdropper HQ. I am all UP in this grow-your-own-everything business. I mean, it's not Swiss Family Robinson at our place yet, but I'm determined to eat something I grow this year.

do you guys garden?

You only live once. Why not give yourself bangs?

...Was my line of thinking at roughly 4:00pm yesterday.

A trifle uneven!

But even so, I think I fancy them.

My new bangs and I wish you a good weekend!

EASTER EGG HUNTS = UNADULTERATED AWESOME.

You guys! I am so excited it is almost Easter!!

It's such a goofy holiday that I can't help but getting a little bit giddy. It's also one of those holidays that makes me want to surround myself with children, like a creepy pseudo Miss Hannigan (except I would be nice to the children and everyone in MY orphanage would love me).

Ross and I are not parents yet, but when I see a random baby dressed up as a little duck or bunny rabbit or something else unspeakably adorable / appropriately Easter-ish, I freak out. It makes me wish that we could dress up Claudia as something cute until we DO have a baby, but unfortunately, anything we put on her would be shred into twitching pieces of unrecognizable cotton fibers. So! Gazing at pretty Easter pictures will have to do.

Here are some I've saved to my computer this week:

source

source

source

source

Another reason I love Easter is that it is my first childhood memory.  I remember walking up a wooden deck with my mom when I was about three, holding a bright purple basket, and my mom wearing a plaid purple dress. Perhaps because of this, purple has always been my favorite color.

We are going to try to find a good Easter egg hunt here in Austin this Sunday. Let me know if you hear of any!