Lumberjack?

Am I a lumberjack? Am I okay?

Well, I feel a bit sore. I've been chopping wood for the last few days. My dad had two 60 ft eucalyptus trees that he had cut down over a year ago. The logs have been sitting out in the sun and are nice and dry.

I've never chopped wood/split logs before. I'm finding it cathartic. And as I do it, I imagine that I'm still in Alaska... maybe I'm Maurice Minnifield...

I would love to live in a log cabin somewhere... the mountains, my wife and our dogs my only companions. The scream of the hawk as he soars above the treeline is my alarm clock. I'd write in the afternoons after the morning chores were finished: feeding the horses, burning the leaves, chopping the wood. I'd sit at my large wooden desk, light up my pipe and type away on my Mac.

I'm tired of this corporate life... this 9 to 5... I've lived so much of my life inside my head... the risks never taken, the learning never done...

You know what else I like? Wearing jackets, sweaters, gloves and hats...

A good flannel shirt is nice as well...

The point is this: Physical labor clears the mind and heals the soul.