We had thought to go into DC today to revisit the Lincoln Memorial and have lunch at Ben's Chili Bowl (apparently a DC must), but as the morning grew incredibly hotter and muggier, we decided on an alternate plan. We would get up early tomorrow and go into town before the heat melted us.

So, instead, today we hung around the RV and napped, went to the pool, napped, had ice cream, napped (you get the idea). This was a good, do-nothing day.

As there is almost nothing to say today, I thought I'd offer up some random thoughts on lima beans.

I’ve found that when lima beans are cooked incorrectly, they do, indeed, taste like chalk. When cooked correctly, they still taste like chalk. But what’s wrong with chalk? My third grade teacher kept complaining that she was missing chalk and couldn’t understand why my mouth was always covered in white dust. She wasn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer.

It’s really funny about lima beans. Just the name sounds weird, like something you’d get from a tick. (Wait. That’s Lyme disease. Never mind.)

Those of you who know anything about me probably know that I’m a very special kind of vegetarian: I eat only herbivores. I’ve never met a vegetable I could call friend, but I do have some acquaintances that I tolerate, and then only if covered in some other material that masks the flavor, preferably something with a lot of fat in it, like gravy or butter. (Yes, animal fat. I like it. I don’t care. Even Shirley Temple sang the praises of it. Remember? "…animal fat is in my soup." She turned out okay.)

Anyway, I just think it’s strange that the one vegetable that Barbara hates, I’ll eat. Just one more example of how she and I complete each other.