I fully endorse this mantra. I know @Warren Money does also.

Happy Sunday, everyone! I just noticed our style brother @John Witvoet is within only 600 points of reaching Level 9! Let's all push our cowboy trucker friend John over the top in the Real Men Real Style Community today! For newer members, all you need to do is tap on the link to Justice's bio, and then begin "Liking" his posts and comments. It's that simple. Let's do this for him today, shall we?

Yesterday I buried my mother, she was 84 years old and had been sick for a while. It was expected, but still a shock when it happened. I'm not there yet, but I know it will hit me. The grief! The sorrow! And being me (I'm a list-and-plans guy), this is me trying to find a way through it all. I write this for me, but maybe it can help others. I believe grief is not a problem to be solved. It is a landscape you are suddenly forced to live in, one that looks different every day. When a mother dies, the loss cuts deeper than the absence of a person; it is the loss of an anchor, a witness to your life, a voice that knew your name before anyone else did. Grief, in this sense, is not only sorrow—it is love with nowhere to go. Working in a hospital, I've learned that one of the hardest truths about grief is that it does not move in a straight line. It arrives in waves. Some days are quiet and manageable; others feel unbearable for reasons you cannot explain. A smell, a phrase, a moment of silence can bring the weight back instantly. This unpredictability can make people feel broken, as if they are “doing grief wrong.” But grief’s inconsistency is not a failure—it is evidence that the bond mattered. Sorrow often brings guilt alongside pain. Guilt for words unsaid, for moments of impatience, for not having loved “well enough.” The mind replays scenes, searching for alternate endings. Yet this is a cruel illusion. Relationships are lived forward, not perfected in hindsight. Love is not measured by flawlessness, but by presence over time. Imperfect love is still real love. Grief also isolates. Others may want to help but feel unsure how; some disappear altogether. Society is uncomfortable with deep sorrow and often rushes toward solutions: “Be strong,” “She wouldn’t want you to be sad,” “Time heals.” These phrases, though well-intended, can feel like erasure. Grief does not need to be fixed. It needs to be witnessed. Sometimes the bravest thing is allowing yourself to say, honestly, “This hurts, and I am not okay.”

Definitely a RMRS scrapbook item. (Click to open for punchline) Have a wonderful Friday. For those of you in the path of the winter storm, stay warm and safe.

From its onset, this week didn't look too busy. A bobtail trip to Minnesota for a trailer that the buyer ultimately rejected when I arrived to hook it up, a 29th birthday, and a few salebarn loads. Feeling just a bit blue as the temps plummet (something like -11 here now) and life grinds on. All the sudden it's busy, and I was unable to keep my massage appointment and spend time with my family, who were really looking forward to cake and time with Daddy. I did order myself the Kitty Hawk EK from Monterey Watch, and took myself out for a burrito while my trailer got washed out. Silver lining kinda deal. Back at it today, and took Liza (the doggo) with so she didn't have to be home alone. If nothing breaks and my diesel juice don't gel up, I'll be home tonight. All denim from Wrangler Wyoming traders wool cap Wool sweater Cinch ghosted paisley shirt Silk wildrag (scarf)