Hawkeye Saturdays, Snack Prep & Small-Town Nights

Welcome back to another week in my little Iowa orbit, where life is equal parts chaos, comedy, and freeze-dried snacks. Let’s start with the big news: I survived my first SOLO bartending shift at Colonel Lanes Bowling in Eastern Iowa. Yep, me—behind the bar at a huge bowling tournament, slinging beers, pouring cocktails, and trying not to look like a rookie. The best part? I ran into about half the people I know. Apparently, if you want to reconnect with old friends in Iowa, you don’t need Facebook—you just need Colonel Lanes Bowling on a Saturday. Strikes, spares, nachos, and now me serving drinks? A cosmic combo. On the home front, I wrapped up my three-week battle with a broken door frame. Patched drywall, sanded like a champ, and somehow didn’t break the house in the process. The door now works AND looks semi-normal, so I celebrated the only way I know how—by diving into a bag of freeze-dried candy from Torus Coffee Company. (Yes, we’re a coffee company with no coffee… yet. Just keeping you on your toes. 😂) Then came the alien encounter. I found a giant praying mantis in my Iowa yard. And when I say giant, I mean, “he could probably bowl a 200 at Colonel Lanes.” I just stood there, wondering if he came from the cornfields or outer space. Either way, he’s now the unofficial mascot of my week. Friday night, the Iowa Hawkeyes football team gave us all a thriller against Rutgers. Our TV is still out (because life), so I ended up at my parents’ house up the street, glued to their screen like it was the Super Bowl. Snacks in hand, we yelled, groaned, and cheered until Iowa finally won 38–28. Of course, my husband had a few too many Busch Lights and launched into his favorite “zen history” lecture for my dad—you know, the one about how history repeats itself but only if you’re not paying attention. Dad pretends to groan, but deep down, I think he enjoys the show. So that’s life this week: bartending adventures at Colonel Lanes Bowling, DIY home repair victories, backyard bug dramas, Hawkeye football stress, and one man’s ongoing mission to philosophize history over Busch Light. Through it all, Torus Coffee Company has me covered with cosmic, crunchy, freeze-dried snacks that are perfect for bowling nights, football watch parties, and even awkward dad jokes. Until the next Orbit Report, 🌀

My First Solo Bartending Shift

I want to be precise about what solo meant, because it is not the same as busy. Busy is a full bar with a second person beside you. Solo is a full bar, a tournament crowd that keeps arriving in waves, and you. Beers on tap, cocktails by hand, and a mental list that has to survive being interrupted eleven times in a row.

The best part was the reunion rate. Iowa is a small place wearing a big state's clothing, and a bowling alley on a Saturday is where that becomes obvious. I ran into roughly half the people I have ever known, which means if you want to catch up with someone back home you do not need social media, you need Colonel Lanes on a tournament night. I took orders from people I went to school with and pretended that was normal.

The door frame took three weeks and I am still a little proud of it. Patched drywall, sanded it smooth, got the trim back on straight enough that nobody notices unless they are looking for it. It works now, which is the part I care about, and it looks semi-normal, which is the part my husband cares about.

The Rutgers game was a thriller and I watched it at my parents' place because our television is still out, which is a long story involving the same week as the door frame. Glued to their screen like it was the Super Bowl, snacks in hand, yelling and groaning in roughly equal measure until Iowa finally won 38-28. My husband had a few Busch Lights in him by then and launched into the zen history lecture for my dad, the one about history repeating itself if you are not paying attention. Dad groans. Dad loves it.

Then there was the mantis. I found a praying mantis in the yard and he was enormous — genuinely, he looked like he could bowl a 200. I stood there for a while trying to decide whether he came up out of the corn or down from somewhere else entirely. He has been officially adopted as the mascot of the week, and I am told he is still out there, unbothered, doing whatever it is that mantises do.

The Three-Week War With a Door Frame

I celebrated the only way that felt appropriate, which was diving into a bag of freeze-dried candy from our own company. There is something satisfying about fixing a thing with your hands and then eating something that was made by a machine you understand. Yes, we are a coffee company with no coffee yet. I am keeping that on the record until we fix it.

Freeze-dried candy is genuinely the right snack for a bowling alley, and that is not marketing, it is physics. It does not melt. It does not get sticky in a warm bar. It travels in a coat pocket without becoming a problem, and it does not need refrigeration, so it can sit in a drawer behind the counter all night and still be crisp when you want it. I have watched regular candy fail every one of those tests in that exact building.

Stay curious. Stay crunchy. Stay cosmic.

— Sara Jane Shelvock, CEO, Torus Coffee Company LLC