It was 19 degrees here in the south, which made the attic nippy. I was up there looking for a few photos of my brother and grandfather. Fishing photos. The ones every fisherman takes when he's proud of his catch. I guess Paw Paw was proud. He'd reeled in a grandson who had caught his first fish and, maybe more importantly, the adrenaline-pumping thrill that every sportsman knows drives him back to the pier in the blistering sun or the deer stand in the lonely and frigid early-morning darkness. Jeff was hooked; he became an avid sportsman.

But I went fishing for that picture because of Wesley and Buttercup, The Princess Bride.  And because of Peter, yet another fisherman who bit the adrenaline bait.

The whole story is over at Laced With Grace today.  Will you join me there?