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 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 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
Read this one →
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
Read this one →
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
Read this one →
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
Read this one →
New writing about the things I keep carrying long after the day is over.
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 →ADHD, artificial intelligence, and the quiet hours when everything in my head finally has somewhere to go.
Read the full essay →I started with a woman in a red dress and a feeling I could not explain. Following her through three images taught me something about how I create.
Read the full essay →What becoming a beer league goalie at midlife taught me about pressure, blame, showing up, and letting go.
Read the full essay →Two photographs of my family taken sixteen years apart, and everything that happened in between them that I could never have planned for.
Read the full essay →A week in Washington in rooms full of people who believe American healthcare can be worthy of the people it serves. Everyone there had a story.
Read the full essay →I went to the conference as a health center CEO, and as a husband and father who watched two women I love lose years waiting to be believed.
Read the full essay →What Is It Like to Live With You? Earlier this week, I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to make my calendars talk to each other.
Read the full essay →People from very different parts of my life keep describing the same feeling. They share no politics or faith, and I want to help it grow anyway.
Read the full essay →A man's case for women leading what comes next. It starts with my mom, a nurse whose work asked for her mind, her patience and her whole strength.
Read the full essay →By Mike Baker People ask about AI all the time now. They ask artists. They ask writers. They ask musicians. They ask podcasters.
Read the full essay →Author, speaker, podcast host, songwriter, AI-assisted artist, EndoDad advocate, and CEO of a community health center in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho.
Read the full essay →Women do not need permission to lead. Men need to stop standing in the doorway. On authority, credit, protection, belief, and real resources.
Read the full essay →Ten books at once sounds like a lot because it is a lot. Here is why they arrived together, and what each one was trying to answer for someone.
Read the full essay →Leaving a faith that shaped your life changes your language, your family, your memories. This is about leaving Mormonism and staying whole anyway.
Read the full essay →A lot of men mean well and still leave damage behind. This one is for the ones who want to know what to do when the pressure actually shows.
Read the full essay →A lot of men say they support women. Fewer men notice how often they still take up the room. That is why I wrote Get Out of the Way .
Read the full essay →I am not anti-AI. I use it every day. This is about what kind of people we become while it is here, and the responsibility we still carry for that.
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.
