I have a confession to make. I’m addicted to jalepena peppers.

There are just a few meals that won’t benefit from having a pepper (or two) as a condiment. I’d enjoyed Santa Fe Grande peppers for years, but the high salt was beginning to bother me. Not in a raise in blood pressure, but retaining fluid. Ick. Plus, I don’t like really salty foods in excess

So I switched to jalepenas which didn’t seem as salty, and packed more punch. I’m one who has always liked hot spicy foods, a preference inherited from my mom. I don’t care how hot it is–bring it on!

So as my addiction grew, I started trying out the various brands of canned jalepenas. There is a big difference.

About four summers back my mom remarked about liking the canned peppers she’d “put up” far better. So that spring we planted jalepenos and canned them–17 pints that first year.

And oh, my God, they were so much better. Hotter, crisper.

So a tradition began.

With my mom’s passing last November and my hectic schedule, I debated long and hard about planting a small kitchen garden this year. In the end I did.

I’ve loved the fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuces, and the jalepenas I’ve harvested. So far I’ve canned 5 pints of peppers and feel damned proud of it.

True country living is just too deep in my soul to ignore. I enjoyed the break from the “business world” to connect with nature, and I’ll sure enjoy the fruits of my labor this winter.

Our office installed a coffee machine in the waiting room this week. I was not for this idea initially, because I’ve had some really bad coffee from these machines before, as well as bad experiences.

Anyone remember the old type machines that would drop the cup, then the coffee would dribble into it? Anyone remember the cup not dropping, but the coffee dribbled out anyway?

This machine is a quantum leap from those dark age machines.

It has a wide variety of coffee, from latte to cappacino. There’s chai tea (yum) and hot chocolate. It has a safety feature so kid’s can’t activate it accidentally and get burned. And my coffee cup fits in the niche just fine, so I don’t have to use a paper coffee cup.

Though I’ll probably stick to plain ol’ coffee for the most part, the patients seem to love the variety. And that’s what it’s all about. Customer service. Oh, and it’s a totally free service, which makes it much nicer.

I’ve been a bad dog mom regarding Samson’s training. If I knew do-diddlly-squat about training a dog it wouldn’t be a bad thing.

But I know. I went through an extensive dog training class with Bear, my keeshond that I had for 14 years and lost about 2 years ago. She was smart, and trained fairly easy, could do tricks. In fact, ask my cousin Mike who swears Bear was the smartest danged dog he’d seen.

I trained Bear from baby puppy of 16 weeks on, and we bonded and learned together.

Sam is a whole different story.

You all know I got my pound puppy when he was seven months old, and he’d lived in the city pound for a month. Those of you who have visited this pound know what it’s like.

I suspected he’d had the beginning of house breaking because he has only had a couple of accidents. But he’d never been on a lease until I took him from there back in April, and he was a wild thing. Now, this wasn’t such a problem when he was a 45 pound pup. But Samson is getting into adult dog now. He’s close to 60 pounds, I’m sure. That’s enough dog to drag my butt up the sidwalk on a lease.

Unless he’s trained, which he ain’t.

Bad Jan. This is totally my fault, because I spent all my free time getting my first Presents into Mills and Boon on time. Which I did.

So I started training Samson to heel today. His first lesson was fifteen minutes, and after five minutes of him jerking my shoulder out of the socket, he learned that the collar biting wasn’t fun. And he started to listen to me. My voice commands. My hand commands. And my body language.

At the end of that sesson, Samson was walking beside me like a good boy. He stopped when I stopped, and when I told him sit he sat.

So maybe this won’t be such a chore to train him to the leash. See, I want to take walks with Sam when I get off work–when the weather cools, like my friend Edie Ramer does with her dog Skye. And I’m not about to tolerate getting dragged up the sidewalk by a dog that is beginning to look like a young lion now.

Plus, Samson just needs to learn to heel for his own protection. He needs to trust me to look out for him, like I trust him to be my guard dog and my companion dog.

So, while my friends were off in San Francisco this week, having loads of fun and networking, I did churn out pages on my second Presents for Mills & Boon. And the added bonus of teaching Samson how to be a gentleman in public.

That was my question to me about a week ago when I realized I’d fallen behind my own schedule. Plug your ears while I scream.

For the record I’ve cranked my timetable down in the draft stage so I have wiggle room later on. Now, knowing this and sticking with my own schedule have been two different things. I’m not a fast starter on stories–I know what I want, what the story needs, but the getting there is sloooow.

I’ve beat myself up trying too hard this time. I was thinking too hard too. I was defeating myself.

Yeah, that sounds stupid, but believe me I can overthink things. Sometimes I just need a kick to get me back on track. Sometimes I just have to sit down, close my eyes and type.

That’s what I did to crank out pages the past week. I typed without editing. And it worked–I’m where I should be with my second Presents right now, and I like what I’ve written.

So one big hurdle down. For now.