Column - Be a good hillbilly, eat them greens
I've often accused my neighbors, Richard and Marty, of being hillbillies right out of the Minnesota Ozarks. After all, they grew up in the wild-and-wooly Pierz-Genola-Gilman area.
I'm a snot-nosed South St. Cloud city slicker, to hear them tell it.
We like to exchange jibes, trying not to crack a grin.
A few months ago, at a Marty-made meal, on the plate was a tangled mess of what looked like seaweed with red streaks in it.
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