Rocky Mountain Sigh: Death-Defying Trip To Canon City's Skyline Drive - PART 1

In addition to mocking clown collectibles, collecting unusual true stories--I like to shine a spotlight on all the fun things to do in Colorado.

Colorful Colorado is one of the prettiest and most interesting states in the Union. I've been to 43 states and all of them are great--but Colorado, in my opinion towers above the rest.

I love cheap and fun day trips in Colorado. After moving to Colorado over 20 years ago, we've rarely taken a vacation outside of the state, because it would take a lifetime to drink in all the beauty of this state.

Today's fun trip is: Skyline Drive, just west of Canon City on Highway 50.

My history with Skyline Drive is angst-filled. I ain't afraid of much in this life except clown collectibles and heights. Several years ago, company came from California and my husband decided Skyline Drive was a must-do.

My husband has a maniacal streak. He once commented that he'd love to take his mother on Skyline Drive, since she's really afraid of heights. Really afraid--not just semi-hysterical as I am. Fortunately or unfortunately she hasn't visited us in Colorado yet.

A friend about our age was delighted with the idea of going up a one-way road with NO guard rails and sheer drops on either side. I was literally hyperventilating. My husband's solution was to immediately take a second trip up Skyline to get me over my fear. It worked a little--since I am a reasonable person when my hands aren't wrapped around someone's neck and shock therapy can be a good thing.

That was about six years ago. Well, a few days ago--another crop of company arrived. Of course, my husband thought Skyline Drive was a good thing to show them. One of our company was a teenaged-girl who had never been to Colorado. The other was her grandmother, who has been to Colorado.

The teenager was gun-ho. Granny was not. She cleared her throat, "I'm a bit afraid of heights also."

That didn't stop my husband.

I decided to pull up my big-girl panties for the sake of company and my sanity. I took deep breaths and am doing fairly well and almost enjoying the spectacular scenery while chanting under my breath that guard rails are a good thing.

Granny is horrified.

We stopped at the big pull-out at the top of the ridge. There is about two feet space from the car and a sheer drop. But we all decided to park so we could walk back to the dinosaur trackway.

The dinosaur trackway boasts layers that tell an interesting story of geology and history with the tracks made by 30-foot long Ankylosuars. There are also burrows and other traces of ancient clams, worms and shrimp. Yum! Too bad there's not a Red Lobster in Fremont County.

I opened my door and the teenager, sitting in the back seat with her ear pods and/or smart phone in hand, didn't see me and opened her door at full swing. She smacked me so hard in the hip and rump that I nearly toppled over the side of the sheer drop.

Of course, she was apologetic. So apologetic for so many hours, that I told her that I KNOW she didn't do it on purpose and that it's stuff like that, that memories are made of. I mean, if one went on a trip and didn't have a near-disaster or two--one would not remember it on one's deathbed, would one?

I didn't tell the teenager that she whacked me so hard that my butt and hip were throbbing for hours.

I was trying not to wet my big-girl panties as I ran across the drive to the lone porta-pottie. OK, I lied. I have three fears--clown collectibles, heights and OUTHOUSES or porta-potties. I'd rather bust my bladder that use a porta-pottie. But I had no choice.

So I limped into the porta-pottie and did my business swaying above the seat. Well, at that exact moment a huge wind gust came up and rocked the pottie so much that I almost fell over.

I nearly escaped getting tossed over the side by a big whack in the arse, and now to be blown away in a stinky porta-pottie? I lept out of the pottie and joined the others at the dinosaur trackway.

Two scary experiences. Well, three--if you include the scariness of a tiny road and sheer drops.

Surely there would not be yet another scary experience on Skyline Drive, would there?

CONTINUED IN PART 2

Yes, if I can survive Skyline Drive, you can too!

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.

The Clown Collectibles Mocker: Creepy Clown Cakes

Creepy clown collectibles are overtaking the world. Fellow clown collectibles mockers should get a kick out of this hilarious website: http://www.cakewrecks.com/home/2011/4/6/the-incredible-non-edible-plastic-clown-head.html?currentPage=2

Cake Wrecks.com is approved by the blog owner of True Story Club (aka The Clown Collectibles Mocker.) They don't just make fun of clown cake wrecks, but the fact that they know about the toxic horror of the incredible, non-edible plastic clown heads make my Respect-O-Meter twitch with delight.

The Clown Collectibles Mocker (also known as The Queen of Questionable Taste) spends too much time mocking clown collectibles and clown fashions, accessories and jewelry. In her spare time, she dusts her clown collectibles collection with a clown-colored feather duster clenched between her butt cheeks. Why? Because she can. And because it's good aerobic exercise. The Clown Collectibles Mocker doesn't mock real clowns or people (in public) and hopes that if people run across their handiwork or items on this blog, they realize it is a high honor and just in fun.

Florence, Colorado: Weird But Wonderful Little Pioneer Town

I'm always curious about what other people are saying about Florence, Colorado. Why? I'm just plain nosy, that's why. And I came across this delightful blog, Cake Spy, that has a nice post about our town. http://www.cakespy.com/blog/2015/4/19/a-sweet-visit-to-florence-colorado.html

According to the blog writer, Florence is a "weird but wonderful little pioneer town." I couldn't agree with her more!

Check out the Cakespy blog. I haven't had a chance to read much more than the Florence, Colorado entry--but it looks like a great blog. Anytime a blog is devoted to sugar, cake and spying--I am totally up with that.

I did learn something at the Cake Spy tonight. There is a rumor circulating that cinnamon rolls might be the official food of our fair, glucose-ridden town. I have enough rolls around my mid section and try to avoid sweets (ha!) so I wasn't aware we had so many cinnamon rolls in town. I will have to remedy that situation as soon as I can.

Yes, Florence is a weird, but wonderful little pioneer town. Its beautiful streets are filled with great eateries, stunning architecture, fabulous antiques shops and indoor and outdoor art.

But underneath its adorable image lies the darker, weirder side:Too many cinnamon rolls. Though I have not yet independently confirmed that yet. AND...

Lest, we not forget. Florence, Colorado not only has the largest amount of antiques stores per capita in the state, it also has one of the highest rates of clown collectibles lurking in its stores. AND I have independently confirmed that.

Arrrgh! The Florence clown angst! The clown on the left could improve his disposition with the official food of Florence: a cinnamon roll. The clown on the left has already had his cinnamon roll sugar high and his quiet smirk of satisfaction tells the whole story.

Eating Our Way Across Colorado: ITO Japanese Steak House in Florence, Colorado

Yes, our goal here is to eat our way across Colorado and write about it. First on our tour of culinary delights is ITO Japanese Steak House, Sushi And Thai in Florence, Colorado.

OK, ITO's is less than a mile from our house--but it still qualifies as eating our way across Colorado.

ITO's opened in early Dec. of 2014 at 106 W. Main St. From my vantage point (across the street working at various antiques stores) with my binoculars focused on this restaurant or loitering on the streets of Florence because I have nothing better to do, I can honestly say there has hardly been a lull in business since opening day.

My husband and I have a tradition (on birthdays) of attempting to eat out three times on our birthdays. Since we are getting older, the tradition is down to two birthday meals eaten out. Oh, and I wonder why my waistline is just a touch out of control.

Anyway, since it was my husband's birthday we decided to make ITO's the twice-in-one day destination. It was just a few days after opening day, and many restaurants when newly opened have a few glitches to work out. Not so at ITO's. The food and service have been perfect from day one to the present.

After our second trip in one day, most of the staff chuckled and yelled, "See you tomorrow!" They weren't far off. We've been back several times and have never been disappointed.

Full disclosure. Japanese cuisine has never been among my favorites. And after ITO's--Japanese food is one of my favorites.

My husband has always enjoyed Japanese food, as it was part of his childhood. His parents are from the Big Island of Hawaii, where the Japanese culture and cooking is dominant. His mother is a pro at making sushi and other Japanese delicacies.

While I always enjoyed my mother-in-law's cooking (because my husband slipped me a $20 bill and an elbow nudge to the ribs and insisted I act like I adored sushi and other Japanese food his mother cooked) I never did enjoy it in restaurants, until ITO's.

Come on! I had Sicilian food in my childhood and we were the types who giggled if someone made a comment about someone making someone swim with the fishes--and not the types to eat raw fish.

Most of us know, sushi is not all about raw fish. It's about artistry and most of it is delicious.

But we got more hooked (no pun intended) on the bento boxes.

Oh, bento boxes. There's my husband attempting to put some soy sauce on his California roll.

I didn't order the bento box this visit, but I have a half dozen times before--so I snatched a roll and a dumpling (Gyoza) before he could object.

Mmm. Washabi. My husband likes to smear that over everything for a hot kick in the gums--so I had to snatch a few samples away before he did so.

This time around, he ordered the shrimp teriyaki box. Sweet ecstasy. You bet my fork was reaching for one of his shrimp.

On the left of the picture is the vegetable tempura. Years ago, in several of the many Japanese restaurants in California my husband drug, I mean took me to, I had bad experiences with tempura. The batter was thick and spongy. So, I was expecting the same here. Not so. The tempura is light and crunchy and cooked to perfection.

Everything is perfectly seasoned and fresh at ITO's.

The miso soup and salad come with the bento box. Delicious!

You'll notice my husband's shirt is different from the last picture. No, he didn't run to the restroom and make a change. We visit ITO's often and this review is based on many visits.

The tempura shrimp bento boxes are just as good as the teriyaki ones. Even the shrimp and vegetables look perky and artistic.

The fried rice in the bento boxes defies description. It is better than any fried rice I've tried in  any Chinese, Thai or other Japanese restaurants.

On one visit I tried the beef and Soba noodles. Soba is thin buckwheat noodles. The beef was melt-in-the-mouth tender. The noodles were cooked correctly and the sauce and vegetables were excellent.

ITO's also boasts a full-service bar and a huge selection of fresh seafood for the sushi and sashimi.

The menu at this Florence eatery is vast and complex, we have not yet scratched the surface of all the delicious offerings such as their hibachi menu or steak, lobster and other seafood. Hopefully I can get back to ITO's a couple of dozen more times and try all those things before I snap the elastic on my stretch pants.

ITO's has a good selection of ramen and Thai dishes. I tried the Pad Thai, which consisted of noodles stir fried with eggs, bean sprouts, green onions and crushed peanuts. I had the shrimp, but the Pad Thai may also be ordered with beef, chicken, vegetables or tofu.

For the freshness and quality of the food, the prices at ITO's are reasonable. Most lunches fall in the $6.95 to $9.95 range.

Dinners can range up to the high $20-range, but the dinner bento boxes are larger than the lunch offerings and range from $9.95 to $16.95.

ITO's get the True Story Club's highest rating: Four forks up! Or in this case, four chopsticks up!

 The rating system is: One fork up (call the health department). Two forks up (not bad, but my taste buds could be happier). Three forks up (quite delicious). Four forks up (beyond delicious). I wanted to base the rating system on the FORK YOU restaurant review system, but my husband told me I was naughty and this was a family-friendly blog. But recently I read something in a reputable local newspaper where a rubber duck derby was referred to as the CLUSTER DUCK. I immediately asked my husband if that meant what I thought it meant. He said yes. And he dared scoff at my initial FORK YOU system of rating restaurants. The man simply has no vision.

ITO's is open Monday through Thursday from 10:30 to 9 and on Fridays and Saturdays from 10:30 to 9:30. They are closed on Sundays.

The restaurant accepts cash and major credit cards, but no checks.



All restaurant meals that are reviewed are paid for by the blog owner. No restaurant owner or staff is informed that the restaurant will be reviewed or publicized. True Story Club NEVER accepts any type of compensation for writing about a restaurant or any other subject on this blog.

The blog owner is NOT a professional restaurant reviewer or photographer. (Like she needed to tell you that). The Fremont County Foodie is a pen name (among others) for the blog owner, who is a former newspaper reporter and magazine writer. She knows nothing about fine dining or cuisine and her only experience with fine dining was coming in third place when applying for a job as a restaurant reviewer at a major Colorado newspaper and when she slightly ticked off celebrity chef, Lidia Bastianich at her swanky Manhattan eatery, Felidia's. I guess that's what poor Lidia gets for allowing such riff-raff into her restaurant. If you dare, you can read about the Fremont County Foodie's total lack of manners and restaurant review qualifications in this blog post: http://truestoryclub.blogspot.com/2015/04/eating-my-way-across-colorado-fremont.html