Florence,Colorado: What Is The True Story Club Blog?

What is the True Story Club blog? Actually it's a covert mission.

You think I jest, but that's partially true.

I'm a very private person, but I'll share a little backstory.

Ever since I was little, I was nosy--I mean curious. About people. What they were doing and why they were doing it.

I accidentally stumbled into the journalism game when I was young with little training on a small town newspaper in another state. The highlight of my career, at that newspaper, was either taking a picture of the county's biggest squash or being shocked when I called famed attorney Melvin Belli's house and he actually answered and talked to me.

Shyness and journalism don't work together that well. I find it hard to speak in public, but somehow I managed to muddle through.

I only had a year of formal journalism training in school. So, I didn't know what I was doing. And still don't. But I managed to score a few freelance newspaper and magazine gigs. Yes, one was writing for True Story magazine.

So, why not name a blog, True Story Club? Everyone has a story. And some people don't feel comfortable sharing their stories with people knowing who they are.

This is as close to revealing who I am, as I will get on this blog. That's me at a gathering in Florence, Colorado where someone painted my face to look like a cat. Meow!

Why am I so shy? You'd probably not know it if you met me. One reason is, even in minor writing, one does receive not-very-pleasant communications at times. And sometimes one receives very nice communications. It all depends on if people like what you are writing. If they don't--it can get ugly at times.

So, this blog is a semi-covert operation. I usually sneak up on people in Florence, Colorado (the antiques capital of Colorado) and write something about them on my blog. It's all with good intent. And it's all free. My main goal is to give people a glimpse of fun and quirky things in southern Colorado, especially Florence. And a taste of small town living.

There is never a charge for what I write, even if it's about a business or commercial operation. I do it for fun and to give this area a little boost.

I have a theory that Florence is harboring some of the most famous and talented people in Colorado. And I think if you browse this blog, you'll find that my speculation when I moved here a few years ago is true. And I have yet to even scratch the surface of all the interesting people living here and all the activities and pursuits in Fremont County.

Many people behind the businesses and activities I highlight on this blog aren't even aware they are being showcased until they come across it on the Internet or a friend tells them. And the people I do tell, they have no idea who I am and what my blog is about--and surprisingly enough NOT one person has refused to share a little of their story with me on the spot without knowing many details. That proves to me that most people are wonderful and that EVERYONE has a true story to share.

It also helps that I work in the heart of Florence's antiques district and most people might not know my name, but know I work in Florence and work hard to make sure that everyone who passes through Florence has a wonderful and welcoming experience.

Do you have a true story you'd like to share for possible inclusion on this blog? For businesses and commercial and artistic ventures, I prefer to stick to southern Colorado. But if you have a personal story of general interest about your family roots, political opinions or experiences, etc.--that is fine too. Anonymous is fine also, if the story is very personal or controversial.

Submit to: FlorenceColorado@yahoo.com

Because everyone has a true story to tell.

Who Says Dogs Can't Be funny? Cute Halloween Dogs

I admit it. Sometimes we like to dress our pooches up for Halloween. They like it almost as much as we do.

Yes--it's a devil dog. He's finally expressing how he feels when a few months ago, I made him do his imitation of Donald Trump complete with a combover.

No comment, except: I thought you loved me!

My eyes tell the story: It's 1932 and I just spent a long day in the soup lines. Brother, can you spare a dime--or a Milkbone?

You dare dress me up as a hippie? What do you think this is--Woodstock. Dogs don't give the Bronx cheer--but this is my version of it. I stick my tongue out at you.

Arggh! I am not sure what this costume even is! I show my hot distaste for it by yelling.

I do believe this tiny, little sombrero makes my nose look bigger.

Maybe if I look at the floor and imagine a huge, hot meaty burrito--all of this Halloween nightmare will go away.

I feel like I am caught in a time warp. The Rocky Horror Show. Perhaps if I do a jump to the left, I can escape these humans.

Darn it. This is getting ridiculous. See that collie in the background. I'm going to telepathically send a message to the humans that he should be next. But the collie is really a big ninny when it comes to getting into costume. I sit here patiently and put up with it, while killing them softly with my eyes.

Heh! Heh! You should have ran when you had the chance silly Collie. And yes, that witch hat does make your nose look bigger too.

Humans. Sigh.

There was only one way to distract the humans from dressing us up. I donned my specs, sat in the easy chair and read them a story about how dogs love everything about being with humans (from eating their delicious food, sleeping in bed and going for car rides) EXCEPT putting on clothes.

We Found YOU In Florence, The Antiques Capital Of Colorado: Alison Helsley & Rose-Marie Gerschefske

A priest, a rabbi and a parrot walk into a bar…No, wait! Two nice young women walk into a store in Florence, the antiques capital of Colorado and buy a tractor crankshaft… OK, now I have the story correct.

As most regular blog readers know, I semi-recently  started a new feature here. It’s simple. Not long ago, a marketing campaign started in Florence—Find It In Florence. I have nothing to do with that campaign. But since I am a perennially curious former newspaper reporter who has always been fascinated with the true stories evident in seemingly ordinary life—I decided to see what would happen when I pop out of nowhere with a camera and a notepad and ask people what they are going to do with that antiques’ find, they discovered in Florence. So, now we have: Will We Find YOU In Florence, The Antiques Capital of Colorado?

This time around we found two creative, fun-loving women who hauled a big rusty vintage tractor crankshaft ($42) t to the counter of the Iron Gate Antique Mall in Florence.

Naturally I could not help asking what they were going to do with that lovely, heavy rusty beast. I knew there had to be a better way to do weight training.

Alison Helsley of Canon City (recently relocated from Dallas, Texas) was delighted to find this work of art in Florence. She is planning to make a table base. She described the look she is going for as: “industrial, modern rustic.”

            Rose-Marie (left) and Alison show off their latest Florence find--a tractor crankshaft

       

Music to my ears! I knew exactly what she meant—and that scared me. But that’s what working around lovely eccentric, rusty and yummy vintage things does to a person.

“It’s going to make an awesome coffee table,” Alison said.

I have no doubt about that. Alison said she is going to use a metal cog as the base and some pallet wood as the top.

As usual, I asked Alison to send True Story Club a photo of the finished product.

Alison was accompanied by her friend, Rose-Marie Gerschefske, who is visiting from Dallas. Rose-Marie got a mini-workout by helping her friend with the crankshaft and lifting it up for a picture.

OK, as usual we had a blast with: Will We Find YOU in Florence, the Antiques Capital of Colorado. But the question is: Will you be the next people we find in Florence?

You might be shopping in Florence and someone might come up and ask you if you want to be found in Florence—and be on this blog. So far, not one person has refused! Everyone has been gracious and shared what they were buying and WHY.

Even if I don’t find YOU in Florence—you are welcome to submit a photo of yourself and/or your friends and family and share what YOU found in Florence. It can be an item, a meal or an experience. I am really not that fussy—as long as we are all having fun, sharing a memory or sharing a creative idea.

Rocky Mountain Sigh: Museum Of Colorado Prisons In Canon City

It's time for another Rocky Mountain Sigh: A fun day trip in Colorful Colorado to the Museum of Colorado Prisons. I took company to this museum and have been another time. It's truly one of the best museum experiences anywhere. OK, the Natural Museum of History in NYC and Louvre in Paris were pretty good too. It's one of the best museum experiences in Colorado.

And someone at the museum has a sense of humor!

This is a reenactment of what a vintage prison cell for women looked like. Notice the brand of toothpaste that supermodel prisoner is holding. AIM! As in: Ready, aim, fire that gun in the commission of a crime?

Most of the displays are in the actual 32 cells. This exhibit reenacts the typical prison guard of yesteryear. My goodness, I thought I was at a maritime museum. This dude looks like a salty old sea captain with a twinkle in his eye. He probably just saw the babes with the AIM toothpaste. Why, it even looks like he has a harpoon in the background to keep them whales, or prisoners in check.

 

Wait, these are the visiting rules at prisons? These are the visiting rules at MY house. I don't allow anyone to sit between my legs. My only question is what exactly constitutes excessive hugging or kissing?

Armed with the naked fury of fact! Wait, that's how I write! But I wasn't around in the 1940s when the movie CANON CITY was made to chronicle the sensational 1947 prison break from the Colorado Territorial Prison. According to the museum brochure and MP3 audio tour, 12 crazed cons overpowered guards to make their way up the Arkansas River. A major blizzard thwarted their efforts.

OKAY, I lied. The Museum of Colorado Prisons is almost as good as the Louvre, where the real Mona Lisa is displayed. It's pretty hard to impress me. The REAL Mona Lisa painting is very small. You don't have to travel all the way to France to see Mona--the Museum of Colorado Prisons has this one, painted by a former inmate. For centuries, art historians and the commoner have speculated on what that sly grin on Mona's face was expressing. I think I finally figured it out. She spotted that hottie in the cell with the AIM toothpaste and got a slight giggle out of the ONLY truly appropriate brand of toothpaste for hardened criminals.

If you are a regular blog reader at True Story Club, you know we like to poke a little fun at ill-conceived handicrafts. But I can't bring myself to make fun of this cute little owl some prisoner made out of yarn.

Actually the Museum of Colorado Prisons has a wonderful gift shop with very reasonably priced items. Some of the items are made by current prisoners. One of the best buys there are handcuff earrings for just $5.

The museum is located at 201 North First Street in Canon City, right next to the Colorado Territorial Prison. The museum at one time was the original Women's Correctional Facility.

The museum is open May 15 to Sept. 30 from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. daily. From Oct. 1 to May 14, it's open from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Wednesdays through Sundays only. The phone number is: 719-269-3015.

The website is: www.prisonmuseum.org

Admission for adults is just $7 and there are reduced rates for seniors, children, active military and corrections employees. It's one of the best museum bargains--and one of the most interesting looks into Colorado history ever.

And if something from another plane is your cup of tea, you can call the museum, which is available for paranormal investigations for a fee. Hmm, I just might do that. I know the chick with the tube of AIM toothpaste is still haunting me.

There Is Only One Punishment For Ariana Grande, Donut Licker

Ah, if only I were a judge and I could mete out the punishment if pop star Ariana Grande is indeed guilty of "maliciously licking" a donut in a Los Angeles area donut shop.

There really is only one truly appropriate punishment. I usually go to ETSY to punish myself by looking at some of the unusual handmade fashions on that site. Why shouldn't alleged donut licker Ariana also be tortured as I am--a person who has never publicly licked a donut.

If I were a judge I would sentence her to one year of wearing these.

Only $49 bucks at ETSY. Sooo sexy. I'd make her order the jumbo size. After all, according to her, Americans are into jumbo sizes. Apparently after a donut shop worker walked by with a tray of jumbo donuts, Ariana chirped through her sugary lips, "What the F... is that? I hate Americans. I hate America."

Tssk, Tssk. Even 22-year-old pop stars should clean up their potty mouths. After all her potty mouth might kiss her mother someday, or lick an innocent donut.

Have some class. Even I don't say WTF out loud, even when I am thinking it about donut-slobbering pop stars. Instead I say this:

OK, my sentence doesn't end there. The ETSY donut undies don't totally do the trick, even though some pop stars wear their undies in public--and lick donuts in public.

I'd make her wear these also.

Another ETSY delight.

Well, heck, there are so many donut fashions at ETSY, it wouldn't be difficult to make Ariana wear donut fashions for that year sentence.

I understand Ariana has a new boyfriend. She might not if she shows up wearing this ETSY beauty.

The Real Reason Barbie & Ken Never Married Or Had Children Or Sex

Well, I don't know for sure why Barbie and Ken never married and/or had children or maybe even had sex. But I think I have a really good idea why. As you know, I despise clown collectibles and fashions.

I'm not sure if Barbie or Ken did it first. But it happened in the early 1960s when Barbie and Ken were quite young.

I have proof. And as usual, ETSY provides the proof that there is not only a clown fashion scourge among all peoples, classes, nations and dolls--but especially for poor Barbie and Ken.

You can actually purchase this crochet pattern on ETSY to make Barbie look like a sexy clown. Circa 1963.

The only problem is that Ken didn't find this look so sexy.

But Barbie didn't really give a clown crap what Ken thought. If he thought this outfit was cool...well, Barbie could do better.

Ken, Ken, Ken! You should have just kept your clown mask on, so Barbie wouldn't have recognized you.

Now, Ken might have found this current clown/circus fashion a little more sexy-- available on ETSY.
But maybe not. The model looks clown-death warmed over.

See, clown and circus fashions can cause depression, decrease libido and wreck the future of Barbie and Ken.

The Queen of Questionable Taste (also known as The Clown Collectibles Mocker) spends her spare time dusting her clown collectibles hoard with a clown-colored feather duster clenched between her butt cheeks for aerobic exercise and for penance of not joining the rest of the world in loving clown collectibles and fashions.

Is Castor Oil A Miraculous Home Remedy?

I confess, I don't often visit doctors, even though I respect the profession, mostly. But I am also skeptical at times over all the "natural" pills, potions, lotions, home remedies and miracle cures. A little snake oil anyone?

That's why I was skeptical when over a decade ago I was browsing in an herb store and the owner told me that castor oil was miraculous for drawing out poisons. I didn't really believe it, even though I purchased a small bottle.

That bottle sat unused for years. I didn't look up any uses for castor oil on the Internet. It didn't even occur to me, but I had a small skin flap on my neck and decided to try the oil on it.

Castor oil is very heavy and thick and generally doesn't run much, but I recommend a small band-aid to keep clothing clean and the oil on the skin.

My skin flap was gone within a few days. It got smaller and smaller and then just fell off with no pain.

I was amazed, but apparently not amazed enough to think much of castor oil again. Back that little bottle went on the shelf--for many years.

Many years later I noticed a pain in my foot. I don't remember stepping on any glass, but it appeared a piece of glass was stuck in the bottom of my foot. Naturally I was having a difficult time walking without excruciating pain. I did the usual thing with sterilizing a needle, gritting my teeth and digging around. It seemed the object just went deeper into my foot, even though it would tempt me for a second and be in reach of the tweezers.

Finally I went to the podiatrist and he took an x-ray. I later found that glass doesn't always show up on x-rays, so he was digging around in my foot relatively blind--just going by the mark I had made in my foot by digging around. He got out a scalpel and dug until there was a fair amount of blood. He would see the elusive foreign object in my foot for a brief second--and confirmed it did appear to be glass. But then it would disappear again and he couldn't get hold of the slippery glas without really opening up my foot.

He finally gave up and announced that I would have to have surgery. I haven't mentioned it, but I am very afraid of needles. I asked if I would have to go all the way under anesthesia. I had a bad experience with going  all the way under as a child.

I suppose everyone is different, but I am one of those types of people who doesn't do very well on most any type of medication--even common ones.

He said yes. I asked if he could just deaden my foot and keep me awake. He said no, because there are too many nerve endings in the foot and sticking needles in the foot is extremely painful. I knew that was true, because his nurse had done that once for my ingrown toenail.

I'd dodged the surgery bullet for years--and it depressed me to think that I'd have to face one of my worst fears over something as stupid as a piece of glass stuck in my foot. No surgery is looked forward to, but it seemed like such a silly thing to have to go into surgery for.

I bandaged my foot and limped around deciding what to do.

A few days later when cleaning out my medicine cabinet I discovered that ancient (by now) bottle of castor oil. I had nothing to lose. Sure, it took a small skin flap off--but was it really powerful enough to penetrate where my needle and the doctor's scalpel had failed? The opening in my foot, from all the digging around, was nearly closed or healed. I put some castor oil and a big band-aid over it. Nothing. I did it for a few more days and then I saw it! Just the tiniest, most microscopic tip of the glass. I reached in my tweezers and grabbed that tiny piece of glass and yanked. Out it came! And it was not a tiny piece of glass. It was quite big and looked like a broken piece of a light bulb. The glass obviously was very fragile and it was a miracle it hadn't broken off in my foot. No, the castor oil seemingly drew it upwards.

Okay, two times castor oil did something that was almost miraculous. But again I put the bottle back on the shelf and forgot about it. That bottle must be well over a decade old by now.

A few weeks ago I was at the grocery store getting some ice cream. The ice cream was crammed and sort of stuck under the shelf. I reached in and unwedged it, but felt a sharp pain. I looked at my hand and saw blood. I commented to my husband that the underside of the ice cream shelf was rather sharp and cut me.

I hurt like hell for a bit, but I promptly forgot about it. It was a nasty combination of a puncture and cut. I saw a black dot and assumed it was a scab. So, I didn't pick at it, even though the scab was hanging around way too long. I finally took a closer look and saw it was not a scab, but a piece of black plastic from the shelf that was stuck under my skin. The skin had calloused a bit, so it wasn't easy to get a needle or tweezers through it. To complicate matters, it was jammed under the webby part of my skin by my index finger. It would have taken two people to get it out. One to hold the webby skin taught and another to do the "operation." I didn't want to bother my husband, so I thought, why not try the castor oil.

Two days and nothing. It was jammed in pretty deep, so I decided the next day I'd bug my husband and accept the pain of having to tear through some pretty calloused skin.

I woke up on the third day and looked at my hand. The black plastic, buried so deep, was gone--and in it's place was a little dent made by the plastic being lodged there for so many weeks and some new fresh pink skin.

Okay, three times castor oil did a miracle for me. I am a believer now! I hope it does the same wonderful things for you too.

I told my husband, I am now convinced that there is rarely a reason to go digging around for splinters or any other minor foreign objects when castor oil seems to do the trick.

Nothing on this blog is to be construed as dispensing medical advice. Any home remedies are simply shared as a personal experience of the writer. Always check with your reputable health care professional before undertaking any natural remedies.

Delightful Book Trailer Shot In Florence, Colorado--Come Six To Seven

Florence, Colorado and its vast array of antiques hits center stage in a new book trailer, shot on Main St., for the novel, Come Six To Seven.

To check out the book trailer that features many Florence antiques shops we will all recognize, see the You Tube video at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8OjJOsTOI0Q

I'm pretty sure this book trailer was shot semi-recently, because I work in several of Florence's antiques stores and recognize the antiques in the windows, that were displayed there a few months ago.

Author Mac Evenstar, has written a novel, Come Six of Seven, that features a unique antique found in Florence, Colorado. The novel, according to Evenstar's promos, features mystery, intrigue, romance and humor. Apparently Supermax is also featured in the fictional book.

This is Evenstar's debut novel and it came out in Feb. of 2015. More information about the author and his book is available at: http://www.macevenstar.com/ The book is available at Amazon.com in Kindle edition for under $5 and other outlets, mentioned on the author's website. I haven't had a chance to read the book yet, since I just found out about it moments ago. But the book is already getting some decent reviews at: www.goodreads.com

If you can't check out the book, make sure and view the free book trailer at You Tube and get a glimpse of charming Florence, Colorado--as the author reads a brief excerpt of Come Six To Seven.

Fremont County Foodie: The Day I Ticked Off Celebrity Chef, Lidia Bastianich

I plan on eating my way across Colorado. Wait, I've already done that. I've actually ate my way across most of the United States and four other countries. I've just never written about it. I was too busy shoving delicacies down my pie hole to write.

True Story Club will soon feature restaurant reviews by the Fremont County Foodie. Reviews won't just be limited to Fremont County, Colorado. Anytime, the Fremont County Foodie can make a break across county lines and eat--there will be a review.

OK, your new reviewer is really The Queen of Questionable Taste. Questionable taste in antiques, collectibles and a spouse. What's the difference of adding food to the list. So, you can be assured the Queen is also totally unqualified to write restaurant reviews.

Actually the Fremont Foodie has a small, very small resume, of fine dining experience. About a decade ago I decided to apply for a position at a major Colorado newspaper as a...Newspaper delivery person? The editor-in-chief? Ha! Not with my majestic grammar skills. I applied for the lofty position of restaurant reviewer. The editor of the arts and entertainment section emailed back and said he was slightly amused by my gallant, but novice attempt. OK, he didn't say that, but I can read and write between the lines. He did say I was is the top three candidates for the position. Then he never emailed back. I think what he forgot to tell me was that only three people applied and I was in dead last.

            The Queen of Questionable Taste & The Fremont County Foodie's Stunt Double

I couldn't find where one even could attend the University of Restaurant Reviewers. So I gave up my dream of getting paid to be a glutton, I mean a gourmand.

Pictured above is my stunt double. You see, it is imperative that I sneak into restaurants anonymously. I suppose when I whip out my huge, decade-old camera that still uses floppy discs--I will be found out. But maybe not. It seems everyone whips it out--and then posts a review on Yelp or some such site.

Yes, you will be yelping when you read my take on what the eating world has to offer.

My only other brush with real fine dining (outside of venturing off the dollar menu at McDonald's) was the time I slightly ticked off celebrity chef, Lidia Bastianich.

Let me back track. The King of Impeccable Taste and I were in New York many years ago visiting relatives. Why golly! All the tall buildings and that lady holding the torch, really set our country bumpkin hearts a flutter.

I had watched Lidia's cooking show on PBS for years. This was before her son, Joe, became a TV star on such shows as Master Chef and Restaurant Start-up.

My relatives decided to stay home one day, and the King and I set off from Staten Island to Manhattan. We were looking for Lidia's restaurant--Felidia. But we don't know New York City. But we found one of Joe's restaurant's. I can't remember the name of it.

                                                                      Joe Bastianich

Joe wasn't there. And that was fine, since we hadn't seen him on TV and wouldn't have recognized him.

We ate. We died twice. The first time was when we were eating. The food was so good. I remember not what we ate, but we didn't care. Best eats ever. We died the second time when we got the bill. It was $130 for two lunches. And we had mineral water, since the King and I rarely drink wine or other spirits.

This was about a decade ago, when $130 was equivalent to about $200. And way before the King got a decent job. We didn't care if we had to sell our plasma to pay our credit card bill when we got back to Colorado--because we had just stepped into the real world of fine dining.

We went back to my relatives' house and told them we had spent $130 on lunch and didn't care. In my family (yes, Italian--well, sort of--Sicilian, which some people don't consider real Italians) spending over $7 on lunch is high treason. To say that side of my family are thrifty Sicilians is an understatement.

Something is my crazed eyes told my relatives that if we came running back and insisting they go with us to Joe's mother's restaurant, even though it was over $7 per head, it had to be serious.

Since my relatives are thrifty, we offered to pay. But we suggested we just order two lunches for the four of us and split them. They agreed to that. But once they got inside and saw was it was really about--they lost their grip and ordered several lunches.

Even though my relatives are New York born and raised Italians, they had never heard of Lidia Bastianich. 

                                                                  Lidia Bastianich

"Oh, my!" I gushed to my cousin,"I watch Lidia's cooking show on PBS every chance I get, which is odd since I can't cook my way out of a paper bag and don't understand fine dining or cooking. The only words I really understand when she speaks are olive oil, sausage and pasta. There is just something about that lady and her show I like."

My cousin nodded and didn't reply because her face was stuffed with some raspberry-pear ravioli or something. Her eyes were crossing in ecstasy and she made it clear that she still didn't get why I was gushing over Lidia, but agreed the food was the best she'd ever had.

We sat there so long, that all the other diners had pretty much left and it was getting into prep time for dinner. My cousin went to the restroom.

I was looking at the bill, that was close to the price of a small country--but did not care. Yes, that delicious. The King and I and my cousin's husband were chatting when I saw HER out of the corner of my eye.

I have a pretty soft voice and did not mean for my voice to carry. "Oh, my God!" I nudged the King," Look there's Lidia!!!"

She was walking across the dining room, apparently on her way out after a long day. I truly did not mean for her to hear me.

Her body language indicated my screeching had reached her ears and it ticked her off slightly, but she shrugged it off and strode to our table and graciously asked us how everything was. I was mortified, because I had NO intention of her hearing me and coming over. I am rather an introvert.

I couldn't stop gushing, even though I could see she was tired. I told her I watched her on PBS and asked her to sign her newest cookbook for me. She did. What a lady.

The three of us are sitting there in shock after she left. The King was as big a Lidia fan as I was--even before we ate her food. He's usually a little more extroverted and he couldn't say a word, except thank you.

My cousin's husband didn't know who she was, so he just said thanks for the good food.

The door closed as Lidia left her famous Felidia and my cousin returned from the restroom. We told her that she missed Lidia. "Darn!" she yelled. "I always miss everything!" Now, my cousin is the extrovert in the group and would have loved Lidia.

And that is my only brush with fine dining. So, rest assured, I don't know my arse from a souffle. Nor, do I apparently know to use my inside voice when Lidia walks by. So, all that will conspire to get you the most questionable restaurant reviews money can't buy.