Mountain or Mole Hill?

First of all, is it molehill?  Or mole hill?  I’ve said it a few times in my life, but never had to write it.  “Don’t make a mountain out of a mole hill.”  “Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.”  It seems like molehill should be one word.

Wait!  I just pictured that in my mind.  A mole hill must be something like a prairie dog hill.  A little mound of dirt that comes out of the hole when the mole/prairie dog digs.

So, I guess it’s mole hill.  I wouldn’t write prairiedoghill, so I guess it isn’t molehill either.

Thanks for the help.

Anyway, here’s the mole hill, or the mountain.  Depends on what way you look it, or as I’ve done for nearly one month, if you just ignore it.

The Christmas Tree.

Once, (in the putting up), a thing of joy, anticipation, beauty, bedazzlement.  Now, with a piling up of days that I’ve been ignoring it, wanting to have it and all of the other Christmas decorations down, it has become a possibly permanent addition to our living room.  Like the Halloween decoration hanging in the corner did a couple years ago.  NO, Halloween IS NOT in July, but cute pumpkins, ghosts and bats cut out by my boys were still hanging from sticks from the ceiling!  NO, Easter is not in August, but all my chotchskies were still gracing the top of my desk!

And, NO, Christmas is not in May.  I’m planning to have everything down by then. 

So, really, it won’t be too big a job once I start it, I know that.  But it’s the doing it that has become the mountain.

And, this month, I’ve tackled some Mountains.  I have become the bookkeeper for our real estate business.  That means setting up spread sheets that have taken me hours (10 or more hours), auditing our home insurance policies (5 or more),  auditing all of our files (50 or more).  Now, those were mountains.  And, I took them one step at a time.  And, they’re finished.  Mountains moved.

The Christmas Tree thing is a mole hill.  It just feels like a mountain.  Getting all the decorations put away.  Schlepping the (fake) tree to the basement.  Packing up my pretty Christmas coffee cups.  Storing the kid’s decorations.  And, securing everything against The Mouse.

More on him at a later date.

But, one thing I’m thankful for, (among thousands of others, really), is that I didn’t put up any Christmas lights.  If I had, this molehill would certainly be a mountain.  Although during Christmas time, the kids and I sure wished we had put up outside lights, deep down, I knew that I would never want to take them down.  Maybe that’s what kept me safe on that one.

Can any of the you identify with me?  Do you still have all your Christmas stuff up?  Can you share my pain?

Alright, I’m being a wimp.  I’ll have it down by March.  You heard it here.  Promise.  When you come to take a class in March, you will no longer be graced by candy canes and Christmas trees.  You’ll have to come back next year for that.

–  The Goat Cheese Lady


About The Goat Cheese Lady

I am Lindsey. At first I was a city girl. Then I was an urban farmgirl, attempting to balance city and farm life. Now, after moving to the country, I have embarked on life as a rural farmgirl, complete with my husband, the Animal Whisperer, man of exceptional knowledge and patience, two boys who are louder than my sister and I ever were, a herd of milking goats, and a flock of egg-laying chickens. Coyotes, mice, country dogs and prairie dogs are frequent visitors. Just 45 minutes north is Colorado Springs, the setting for our first six years in the goat world. Our family. Our city friends. Our introduction to cheesemaking. But we...and our growing farm and soon-to-be creamery...have set up shop down off of Highway 115 in Penrose, Colorado.
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