To Juliet on our Seventh Anniversary continues an important tradition for me of writing a public post to my wife, on our anniversary each year. In the case of this year, this is also the very first post on my newly minted website. Seven years ago today, after two days of rain in Austin, the sun came out, and in your white dress and lovely shoes you stood in the soft grass of Mercury Hall. As our beautiful and succinct ceremony transpired, you and your sharp heels began to sink into the still muddy earth. I had to pry you from the soil after we completed our vows, and as we danced towards the reception hall, the muck slung from your shoes onto your dress like mudflaps on a ’77 Ford. This crude reference the metaphor for what we do and how we choose to live. We bury ourselves into the mire of work and life in some place. We get to know it through a process, and most of it is enjoyable, poetic, and emotional. However, after time, we begin to bog down deeper into a social world, the dirtier parts, the softer places that hold us comfortably or routinely. We suddenly feel an insatiable urge to fly, and this is when the music starts, and one of us tugs at the arms of the other, which have begun to stretch to their limits, and we plop from the swamp of complacency to seek the rebirth of our curiosity.