I hate vegetables. There I said it. I feel better now. This has been something I've bottled up inside myself since childhood. And I have my dear departed parents to blame. Well, who else? Safe to blame them now that they're no longer here to defend themselves. They did their best with me, though. They always gave me what they were having. Lima beans. Blech! Creamed corn. Double blech!! Wax beans. Triple blech!!! I think you get the idea. I feel for ya kid But the worst of all, however, was canned peas. We didn't have frozen peas when I was a kid. Although it would have been a cold day in July before I ate them, too. I remember the strategies I'd devise at the dinner table. If I didn't hate the veggies on my plate too much I'd load them up in my mouth and take a big swig of milk. This would more often than not make me choke and I'd spit milk and vegetables clear across the table. I didn't care. At least I didn't have to swallow them. Sometimes I did a...