by Todd Bross

MANY TIMES, THE FAVORITE PART OF MY DAY is the beginning of the last part of it.

That moment when, with the din of the day's demands all but faded into all too familiar echoes, the act of rolling onto my side in bed elicits bliss. Gravity and its cruel laws that rule over where ligaments and tendons abound disappears, replaced by the loveliness of no longer being aware of them. I catch myself kneading catlike the cool weighted blanket nestled perfectly between my feet so that flesh, more specifically callouses, do not touch.

My knees, where to begin? The 24/7 reminder of the lateral meniscus of my left knee that, not even a month into my owning my own donut shop, POPPED like a champagne cork. Nothing a Tommy Copper knee sleeve and over a week of eating Advil like Pez couldn't not so much fix, but negate... kinda. A local CBD salve ending up saving my neophyte business before I could even post my first 30 days on a balance sheet. They too are enjoying the time off from standing, on a typical day, at least 12 hours nonstop. The simple act of engaging my hip flexors while getting into my car post shift is, in fact, not simple.

Shoulders? My rotator cuffs, who are asked thousands of times a day to execute simple procedures like punching out donuts by hand, love this time because I learned a valuable lesson recuperating from not one but two separate distal bicep ruptures (each arm) that an elevated arm is a completely relaxed arm. In other words, I drape the arm not underneath me atop a mound of pillows, much like a child holds a teddy bear. A commercial grade mattress topper absorbs the other shoulder, the arm attached to it bent 90º, its wrist pronated upward to relax tendons.

Ahhhhh my lower back. Ecstasy. Soft moans as vertebrae uncoil. Rhythmic gyrations... sigh. The occasional crack or two a bonus.

BUT ALL OF THE ABOVE DULLS in comparison to the muscle located between my ears, for often the first time that day, relaxing. There is no stopping. Ever. It's constantly one issue, one task, one ritual, one emergency, one contingency. Actually, that's not entirely true. Could be two or three or more of the above, and all at the same time. The physical demands of running an independent donut shop pale compared to the mental and spiritual ones of the same.

It should be noted that all of the above is occurring at 3:00pm because a 12:15am alarm will be coming for my almost 60-year-old self soon enough. My shop day begins at 1:00am. Your Monday is my Saturday. Noon in your world is 8:00pm in mine.

The strangest part of this is that which is the cause of all of the aforementioned is also my sanctuary, my safe space. Not a single morning goes by that, even with every toll paid, after 5-10 minutes I am “into it” as I begin The Ritual of making that day's doughs. I'm obviously, and luckily, masochistic to an extreme. As of this writing it will be almost exactly nine years to the day that, on a fateful whim, I decided one December morning to try my hand at making a yeast donut.

THAT MORNING LITERALLY CHANGED MY LIFE.

It's only within the past year or so that I feel I've gotten good at this. That I know and understand enough to be consistent to my demands of myself. Do something a few thousand times and you start to notice little things that, employed over time, make one better at one's chosen trade. Challenge yourself to do something you've never done before and you begin to get a small glimpse into what you perceived were limits, but you now know as terrifyingly untapped potential.

A dozen donuts on a whim one cold December morning. Who knew?

What I do know now is, while it took me half a century to find my path, my calling, that I've found it. That I am blessed every day beyond what I can convey with a keyboard to get to do what I love to do as my own boss. That we are welcomed into other's tribe's rituals and lives, that we elicit excitement and smiles and unfiltered reactions. That we've become a destination. That strangers become patrons, patrons become regulars, regulars become friends, friends become our extended family.

That 3:00pm and its escape are worth it.

......................................................................................

Todd Bross is the Owner and CFO (Chief Frying Officer) of Ruckus Donuts in Rockland, Maine. In his nonexistent spare time he is an avid oenophile and thoroughly enjoys sitting at local coffee shops actively doing nothing.

Ruckus Donuts
377 Main Street
Rockland, Maine 04841
Business: 207.975.4388
ruckusdonuts.com
Facebook: RuckusDonuts
Instagram: @ruckusdonuts
Bluesky: @ruckusdonuts.bsky.social