We spent most of the day doing our rat killin’ (running errands, to you Yankees ) and returned home to sit in our chairs on the back porch, fans humming away, watching the thermometer climb to near 90F. Good times. The joints appreciate the lack of refrigerated pain. When we got down to the bottom of the mountain this morning, we detoured over to Pal’s drive-thru and we each got a sausage biscuit, an order of cheddar rounds (sort of like a large tater tot embedded with real cheddar cheese and smushed flat) and a sweet tea. While sitting in the line, I looked over and saw a familiar sight.…