I bought a 16-inch chainsaw last night. I used one a bit as a teenager when my parents heated almost exclusively with wood. My dad's claim-to-fame is that he got through the winter on one tank of fuel oil. He never mentioned that the equation was balanced by me cutting, stacking, splitting, stacking, tossing into the basement, and stacking all the wood that made it possible. I remember the year he was thrilled that he could have all the wood delivered in tree lenghts because I was old enough to do the extra work. Kids these days...they don't know how lucky they are!
I still haven't opened the box yet. I feel like I need to find a flannel shirt and get ready to do some manly grunting and I've got too much work to do that requires me to not be in Neanderthal mode.