OK, anyone who didn't watch TV in the late 80s (and I think early 90s), may not remember this ad campaign, but I think about it every time I drink a Dr. Pepper, which is at least once a day. I try to keep it at a minimum. My junk food habit is bad enough without multiple sodas.

I have such a reputation for drinking Dr. Pepper, one of our company's ad reps gave me some Dr. Pepper lip gloss (she didn't want it.) Yes, yes. The lip gloss is a girly thing. I understand. But, I don't care, either.

Doesn't it make my lips look radiant? Yeah, I thought so, too.

But I'm more than a self-described Pepper. A Web site told me so. It's easy. You take a five-question test, and the site tells you what kind of soda you are. Or what your 80s theme song is. Or.... and it goes on and on. It's pretty cool.

The one problem, though, is it tells me to stay away from 7Up. No way, José. I love that, too. If you can't tell what my vice is by now, you haven't been paying attention.

You Are Dr. Pepper

You're very unique and funky, yet you still have a bit of traditionalism to you. People who like you think they have great taste... and they usually do. Your best soda match: Root Beer Stay away from: 7 Up

So, I picked the first subject that popped into my head: My favorite places in northern Colorado.

Here are a few, subject to change and amendments:

— On ridge south of Windsor, overlooking the town and the Poudre Valley. There's a place you can park your car and look down at the town, all the new development going on, Kodak to the east, and the old sugar beet elevator. It's a microcosm of everything that's going on in northern Colorado — the clash, or the blending, of small-town rural lifestyles with the burgeoning urban ones. Once, in the evening, I watched a woman walking her dog at the bottom of the ridge as a coyote shadowed them about halfway up the slope, perfectly camouflaged in the dusty gray sage brush. I suspected he had his eye on the dog, although by himself, with the sun still up and with a human around, it was unlikely he would try anything. Nonetheless, I drove down to give the woman a heads up, but she was gone by the time I got there.

— Just south of Timnath is a gazebo, right along side of the road, that overlooks the Poudre River. Apparently, I like spots that "overlook" things. In summer, the river winds through farmland, mostly hay fields if I remember correctly. With the mountains in the background, it makes for a stunning vista. Surrounded by the bustle of activity — I-25 is not even a mile to the west — it's a haven in the every-growing Front Range.

— Margie's Java Joint in Greeley. One of my favorite places to drink coffee and read.

— Roma's on 8th Avenue in Greeley. As a student at UNC, this place received a lot my business.

— DIA. The best people watching.

— The fountain at Foothills Mall. Again, great people watching.

— Cameron Pass/Poudre Canyon. Hiking. Snowshoeing. Rafting.

— Rist Canyon. A nice detour to Cameron Pass if you don't feel like driving the length of Poudre Canyon.

— Choice City Deli. Great sandwiches. Cool atmosphere.

— Crown Pub. My standby bar in Old Town.

— Anyone one of the breweries. It's hard for me to pick my favorite.

— A few alcoves on the second floor of Michener Library at UNC. I wiled away many hours there, doing little work but a lot of dreaming.
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Snap, crackle, pop.

Makes you want some Rice Krispies doesn't it?

But snap, crackle, pop doesn't mean kids cereal to me anymore. Instead, it's the sound my body makes every time I get out of my chair, stretch, run to first base in softball — heck, some part of my body will crack while I'm sitting on the couch watching the Broncos snap, crackle and pop in the fourth quarter of yet another game.

Too many separated shoulders. Too much torn cartilidge. Too many sprained ankles. But along with all those boo-boos and owies came a ton of fun.

Football, softball, jungle gyms, basetball.

Thinking of all that fun — and of snap, crackle, pop — does make me harken back to my childhood (and last Saturday) and my favorite kid cereals.

Here's my Top 10 list (off the top of my head):

Cap'n Crunch

Fruity Pepples

Quisp

Golden Grahams

Corn Pops

Coco Puffs

Lucky Charms

Boo Berry

Honey Comb

and of course Rice Krispies
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I save everything, at least for a little while. Even receipts from a fast-food lunch (too many of those, unfortunately) stick in my pocket and then on my counter at home. They'll float around for awhile, serving enough time to either make it into my "files," or be tossed to the trash.

It can be an annoying habit, but there's also an upside. I have, in a drawer or shoebox here and there, most every ticket stub from every movie I've seen in the past five-plus years. My guess is that I can find a stub that dates back even longer.

This also includes ticket stubs for football games, baseball games, concerts, etc. Going through these makes for a fun trip down memory lane.

I also save most every card and letter I get. About five years ago I actually organized all the cards and letters with a filing system based on who sent them. I was able to look through all the letters from my high school sweetheart (wow, there were a lot more than I remember), for example, and see just how much she and I changed in those few years.

It also made me realize how completely insensitive and oblivious a teenage boy can be.

Maybe these letters and cards will prove a tangible commodity at some point, if I ever write that great American novel or my memoirs (though I can't imagine anyone ever wanting to read them, let alone me write them). I'll be able to comb through them and find some nuggets of wisdom, some interesting take on life that lends itself to a larger story. Maybe.

Or, maybe the boxes of stuff are just a testament to my inability to let go of the past and that I don't mind living with junk piled in the corner because I'm too lazy to throw it away.

Yeah, that seems more likely.
comments (2)

Addictive almost.

We (me, photog Erin Hooley and our video production guy Scott Reyes) went out to the Something from the Farm farm to watch a trebuchet in action. Say it with me — treb-u-shay. That's a fancy French word for a catapult-type thing that uses an 800-pound counterweight and a sling to fling pumpkins back into the pumpkin patch.

With a splat, thud and a boom (not really a boom, they are just smushy pumpkins after all, but you get the idea).

Jon Dory was inspired to make the trebuchet after building a scale model four years ago for his son's science project.

This is no science project.

It's a full-scale medieval destruction machine. Hyperbole, of course, but the good kind.

You can go to the Something from the Farm at the southwest corner of Timberline and Carpenter. It's behind the Redeemer Lutheran church.

There are three a corn mazes as well.

Say hello to manager Terry Kettenhofen when you're there.

And for a couple of bucks, you can fling a pumpkin.

It's very cool.

Unless that's just a guy thing.
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