Pickles & Dimes

There are very few restaurants that get me excited enough to do my patented Butt Dance when I realize we’re eating there. It goes without saying that Buffalo Wild Wings is one of those places. So is Ruth’s Chris.

But my favorite establishment is Barnacle Bill’s in Brooklyn Center. It has so many things going for it:

• it’s attached to a bowling alley

• the menu is extensive

• the nautical décor is phenomenal (I would kill to have the two giant porthole mirrors that were above our booth last time) and

• now that I have to work full days on Fridays (note to Workplace: I still haven’t forgiven you), showing up at 6:00 means we don’t have to wait for a table.

That’s because the dinner rush is at the too-early hour of 4:30 p.m., when all the senior citizens line up. There’s only two reasons that carloads of senior citizens would pile four-deep in the waiting area at a dining establishment: great food and excellent prices. Barnacle Bill’s has both.

Jason and I love the top-notch menu: burgers, steak, ribs, fish, pasta, you name it. The clam chowder alone is worth the price of admission. Also, it’s fantastic to gaze around the dining area and realize you’re the youngest patron by 30 years.

This has become our go-to place since it’s close to home, and we’re determined to become regulars. Nearly every time, I order something new (strange for me, the girl who would eat the same thing every day if digestively possible) and I’ve yet to be disappointed.

On Friday, on our way out the door armed with leftovers that would be more than enough for another full meal, we held the door for an elderly couple. “Excuse me,” the woman said, “but is this a good place to eat? We’re from out of town.”

“Yes,” Jason and I said in unison. “It’s the best.”

Rating: 5 out of 5 pickles

Well, it looks like Mother Nature slapped me with a smiting blow for my entry yesterday. My suburb has already received 10 inches of snow throughout the afternoon and night. Large drifts cover our driveway and there is a 4-foot wall at the end where the first plow has blocked us from our street.

Luckily, my Sunday paper has already been delivered. Thank you delivery guy!

Mother Nature will have the last laugh, it seems. Our snow blower is incapacitated, so Shauna and I are going to have to play dueling-shovels to free ourselves and see the outside world.

Hats off to you Mother Nature: you got me, and congratulations to the meteorologists, who, over the course of the weekend, seemed to nail this storm dead on.

I have to go, that snowflake I saw yesterday brought reinforcements, so we’ve got some shoveling to do.

We’ve stocked up non-perishable food and bottled water. Outdoor activities have been canceled. The doors are locked and the windows have been boarded up. We’ve prepared our Netflix stash accordingly. We’ve been watching the “continuous coverage” on EVERY news station.

What has “the storm of the century” produced thus far?

Nothing. At all. There is barely a dusting on the ground.

I woke up early to shovel and snow-blow the driveway, and it turns out I could have used a broom to do the job. I turned on the TV and meteorologists on every station told me the Twin Cities are still getting the “up to 18 inches” predicted, and there were “a half dozen” accidents overnight.

Really? Did anybody take into consideration the fact that there are probably that many on Twin Cities roads on any given Friday night after the bars close?

I have to go. I think I saw a snowflake fall.

Not too long ago, Jason’s two pre-teen cousins gave us a jar of plastic pickles, which they supplemented with some dimes.

AWESOME.

If we’d have known they were going to do that, we’d have named the site “Unlimited Buffalo Wings & Hundred Dollar Bills.”