And just like that, my whole world opened up. Luckily, the skies didn't.

Saturday was the first time I felt like I actually live in San Diego. Emphasis on the living. Searching for fresh and breathless, I cycled a 12-mile circuit to the Embarcadero and back.

I coasted down familiar Cañon St. to Rosecrans, and then crossed over to N. Harbor Dr, which cradles the bay. An extensive length of boardwalks stretches obligingly next to the water, creating a scenic path to ride without concern for motorists.



I pedaled past the Star of India and Anthony's Fish Grotto, stopping to admire the installation art that lines the waterfront.



I got as far as the USS Midway before a few scattered raindrops fluttered out of the heavy clouds overhead. I decided to turn back homeward. The rain continued to threaten, but never followed through. As I approached Cañon again, I spotted a bread and pastry shop I'd always wanted to try, and took advantage of the extra hour daylight saving time had given me.



That was a moment of unmitigated pleasure: a long bike ride behind me, halfway through a cup of coffee and a chocolate chip roll, halfway through a text message conversation with my dad, and halfway through St. Augustine's Confessions, whose amazingness not even my hated professor's compulsion can diminish.