I think it was the first time I met Leslie, she had wrangled a house-sitting gig in (relatively bucolic) San Rafael, and Tammy and I were invited to hang out by the pool with her and Jeff and a number of other folks, and later to go to the (literally bucolic, i.e. pertaining to cows) Marin County Fair in order to watch the Independence Day fireworks. It was a hot day, the sort of lazy summer afternoon that seems more common in the past than in the present. Things happened, especially later, when I remember the appearance of vomit at the Fair, and the fireworks were interesting if not particularly memorable. What I do remember, and what has stuck with me since then, as a sort of blurred, sentimental snapshot, was the comfort that Jeff and Leslie were able to feel about that lazy afternoon, when there wasn't much to do but hang out, and experience the warmth of the day, and the company, and our good fortune in living here now. Jeff and Leslie are famous for their adventures. Boats. Careers. Travel. Jeff and Leslie obviously know how to have fun. But what I admire most is that Jeff and Leslie have carved for themselves, out of the hurried jumble of daily life, a space where they can experience joy in simple things. Through all the adventures, victories, injuries, grace under pressure, and transition, Jeff and Leslie have created, on their own terms, peace.