Tue
this one counted
Most of life happens on days we never think to name. It happens in the car, around the kitchen table, after a hard meeting, or late at night when the house has finally gone quiet. Those are the moments I keep coming back to.
I write about family, healthcare, leadership, grief, women’s health, creativity, faith, technology, and the questions that follow me home. I am still learning in public and trying to pay attention as life unfolds. I hope something here helps you notice your own life a little more closely too.
’Cause you never know
When an ordinary day
Becomes the one
You’d give anything
To live again.
The latest note
A practical framework for women’s health training in community health centers, and an invitation to FQHCs to help refine and pilot it.
Read the essayReaders arrive here carrying different things. You might be leading through a difficult season, caring for someone you love, trying to understand your own grief, fighting to be heard, or wondering whether the creative part of you still has something to say. Start wherever your life meets the writing.
Family, love, and growing older
Marriage, parenthood, adult children, and the ordinary moments families only understand later.
What Fatherhood Really Feels Like
Read this one →
Leadership and healthcare
Decisions that land on real people, and leading without losing your humanity in the process.
Everyone I Met Told Me About Someone They Loved
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Women's health and advocacy
Endometriosis, menopause, dismissal, and how men should show up for the women they love.
Women Should Not Have to Lose a Decade Before We Believe Them
Read this one →
Grief, memory, and caregiving
Alzheimer's, the long goodbye, and staying present when nothing can be fixed.
Still My Mom: A Book for Families Facing Alzheimer’s
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Creativity, ADHD, and technology
Scattered ideas, late-night projects, and protecting the human voice inside new tools.
Slop, Soul, and the Reason I Keep Creating
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Faith, change, and what comes next
Belief, doubt, and becoming someone new without erasing who you were.
Still Good: A Book About Leaving Mormonism and Staying Whole
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New writing about the things I keep carrying long after the day is over.
Why I’m asking every federally qualified health center to get better at women’s health, from period pain to menopause, and how we can build that together.
Read the full essay →Twenty-seven years into marriage, I’m still learning what Kellie needs from me. A letter for the man who knows very little about perimenopause and menopause, with a free guide to help him begin.
Read the full essay →Yesterday was our twenty-seventh anniversary. Kellie has lived with every version of me so far, and she stayed close enough to tell me the truth about all of them.
Read the full essay →My Coeur d'Alene Press column after the Panhandle Health District forum: why every community meeting turns back into the 2020 fight, why I support PHD, and why North Idaho health care only works if we stay in the same room.
Read the full essay →"No margin, no mission" gets said so often in nonprofit healthcare that we have mostly stopped asking what anybody means by it. I understand why it sticks, and I want to defend it before I complain about it. P
Read the full essay →A family reunion in Phoenix, work commitments that overlapped, and the in-laws I never got to hug. On deciding together whose plans move, with a free two-page worksheet to help.
Read the full essay →Up all night talking with Jake, a nap I’ll never live down, and Jon Bellion with a full orchestra at the Hollywood Bowl. Just an ordinary Thursday I’ll never forget.
Read the full essay →Before you get disappointed that she canceled, remember that she wanted to go too. On endometriosis, and the costs that never show up on a bill.
Read the full essay →If your mom is still alive and you miss her, I wish you didn’t have to be so careful about saying that. For the families living through the Alzheimer’s years, and the feelings we struggle to say out loud.
Read the full essay →There is often a remarkable amount of care concentrated around the moment when a life changes. Then time passes, and the person at the center of it is still living with it.
Read the full essay →I have been traveling quite a bit lately, and coming home has made me notice something about home that I had never given much thought. There are the obvious parts, of course. Kellie, the kids, the dogs acting like I have
Read the full essay →There are still moments when something happens and my first instinct is to tell my mom.
Read the full essay →AI is making individuals more capable — and quietly changing how much we rely on each other at work. What leaders should watch as the tools spread.
Read the full essay →For a long time I thought being a good husband meant being the person who could make things better. Then I found myself loving people through pain I could not solve.
Read the full essay →Your partner is having an endometriosis flare. Here’s what helps, what to have ready, what to avoid, and how to recognize when she needs medical care.
Read the full essay →Samantha got her answer in two years because her mom happened to connect the dots. The next girl should not need that kind of luck to be believed.
Read the full essay →A night in Vegas with Benson Boone, thousands of phone flashlights, and the woman who has shared nearly twenty-seven years of my life.
Read the full essay →I rebuilt the site this week so people meet the person before they meet the machinery. Why the writing is now called Just an Ordinary Tuesday, and what my mom taught me about the days nobody circles.
Read the full essay →My daughter’s endometriosis diagnosis took two years. The average is four to twelve. We got lucky, and luck should not be a diagnostic pathway.
Read the full essay →Some thoughts stay with you. These are a few I keep returning to.
I named this place after the days nobody circles, so I’m not going to pretend a newsletter is an event. It’s just the next ordinary Tuesday, sent to you instead of sitting here waiting to be found. Essays mostly, and now and then something from the books, music, podcast, art, or advocacy work.
I aim for Tuesdays, twice a month or so, and I don’t always make it. Your address stays private, and leaving is always easy.
I lead a community health center in North Idaho. I write books, make music, host a podcast, create art, and advocate for people living with endometriosis. I am also Kellie’s husband and a dad to three grown kids who keep teaching me that attention matters more than I understood when they were young.
Everything here comes from the same life. I write because some experiences keep asking to be understood, and because the right words sometimes help another person feel less alone.
