Every morning at 6:15, before the Detroit traffic wakes up, I feed my starter. Her name is Ruth, after my grandmother who baked bread every Saturday in a kitchen that always smelled of yeast and butter. Ruth is three years old now, and she's traveled with me from Ferndale to Sleeping Bear Dunes and back again. This is the ritual that grounds me when payroll deadlines loom and onboarding packets stack up.

Just like onboarding a new employee, sourdough requires patience and sequencing. You can't rush the autolyse any more than you can skip the first-day welcome. Both systems fail when overloaded. Both reward the person who respects the timeline.