I was wrong about two things in that earlier entry. One, I gave the link to the wrong McCormack & Schmick’s location. Two, I didn’t avoid the shellfish. Not entirely, anyway.

I mean, damn, they had the little sea-bugs wrapped in bacon. How the hell was I going to turn that down, I ask you!

Exactly. You’d have done the same, in my place. Here’s hoping I don’t feel like garbage in the morning, eh? (Was it worth it? Well, I had two of the bacon-wrapped tidbits. Does that answer your question?)

But that’s not (entirely) why I wanted to post an entry. You see, after I left the restaurant I planned to hike a half dozen or so blocks to the nearest MAX station, but as I neared the Hawthorne bridge (and contrary to what you may have seen in the cinema, the MAX does not cross the Willamette there) I made one of those quirky snap decisions I’m (sort of) known for.

I decided to walk the Eastside Esplanade, something I’d not yet done.

For those of you not Portland residents, the Esplanade is an expensive little project designed to… well, I honestly don’t know what its true purpose is. It’s a walkway along the riverfront on the east bank of the Willamette across from downtown. Basically it occupies the (very narrow) space between the freeway and the water. Actually, for a large part of its length it’s actually on the water.

All things being equal, I had myself a really nice walk home. It took just under an hour, was made nicer by steady application of good music (Toy Matinee) and wonderful weather, and more urgent by the fact that I consumed a lot of iced tea at the restaurant…

And no, I don’t have pictures for you. I didn’t have the camera with me. Bad Karel, no biscuit. Ah well.

I think maybe seafood doesn’t agree with me anymore.

Let me backtrack a bit. I used to love fried shrimp. Love, I say. You know those Sizzler all-you-can-eat deals? Yeah. I was all over that.

My tastes have become only slightly more sophisticated over the years, and I don’t eat shrimp as often anymore. My last experience with the little batter-dipped sea bugs was a try at some “coconut shrimp,” which I wrote off as being too sickly-sweet to, er, stomach. I blamed my upset tummy on the combination, not on the wee crustaceans themselves.

Last night, though, a group of us trekked out to Red Lobster in Beaverton to celebrate Lil’s birthday. (Among the many, many snarky jokes: “Hardcore Prawn.” Yes, we’re a dorky bunch.) I had the steak-and-shrimp platter. Nice, boring deep-fried shrimp. No problem, right?

Well, not last night, no. This morning was another story entirely. Bleah. I’m most decidedly under the weather today. Queasy as all get-out. (Luckily nothing truly disgusting has come of it. Yet.) The only thing I can guess is that maybe, just maybe, my body doesn’t like shrimp anymore. Hell, maybe it doesn’t like all seafood anymore.

Damn. I guess there’s one more thing off the menu. I’ll have to survive on steaks, pork ribs, pizza, omelettes, potatos, salads… oh, well, I guess it’s not so bad after all, eh?

Mind you, what the hell I’m going to order from McCormack & Schmick’s tomorrow night is anyone’s guess…

Tact, they say, is remembering a woman’s birthday but forgetting her age. So I wish Lilith a very happy birthday… however old she is! (And hey, you should too.)