Except this afternoon, instead of lifting weights, I had to lift big log rounds and haul them around. My dad and I went over to my Grandmother's cabin and cleared some dead trees. My dad used the chain saw and felled and bucked the trees, then I had to move them to a truck accesible location on the side of the road so some other poor soul could come in and haul them away.

There's something disheartening about trying to keep up with someone with a chainsaw. I'd get hopeful because there was only two trees left to stack and then I hear the crash of another tree coming down and, with a sigh, realize that I'll have to move that tree too. And then there's another crash and another tree comes down. It's hard because there's really no end in sight for me, at least I don't know where the end is because as long as dad keeps cutting, I have to keep hauling. It's like being the dish rinser/dryer/puter-awayer in a room full of dishes and not knowing how many dishes your dishwasher is going to want to wash.

It was nice to pull on the beat-up carharts and work gloves and tromp around the forest for awhile.