Column: I am the junkin’ queen

It may be junk to you, but it could be a Christmas gift or next week's wardrobe for self-confessed junkin' queen.

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By TAMMY MALGESINI

Inside my Shoes

Published on October 27, 2015 9:53AM

During my teenage years, I was mortified if my mom wanted me to go into a thrift shop.

She didn’t find the logic that if I was in the store and someone saw me in the store, then they were in the thrift store, too. Well, as everyone knows adolescence isn’t logical.

Today, we laugh about this because I’ve turned into a junkin’ queen. I love finding good deals — in fact, other than my unmentionables, everything I’m wearing while penning this column was purchased at thrift stores, yard sales or other similar excursions.

They include some funky Chuck Taylors, Old Navy cargo shorts and a Nike T-shirt emblazoned with Hermiston Cross Country. Oh, and my Burton snowboard jacket is hanging on the hook. The grand total of this outfit, jacket included, cost me less than what the sneakers go for retail. Score!!

A twist on junkin’ is what I call Lester Pattoning — the act of obtaining unclaimed, discarded or mislaid items.

I was introduced to this through my husband, John. He gained knowledge and techniques from Les Patton, a man whose family befriended my husband when he was in his late teens. Les, John said, was the king of stopping in the middle of the road to pick up items that had parted ways with their owners.

Over the years, John and I have benefited from Lester Pattoning in the form of several pairs of medical scissors, a dog leash, a thermal hoodie, a rock hammer, a tire pressure gauge, a leveler, softballs, Frisbees, sunglasses, Reebok slides (even in my husband’s size), snow gloves, goggles, baseball hats, a jacket, T-shirts, stocking caps, sweatshirts, two cases of wine coolers (with only three broken bottles), flashlights, a case of English mark darts, a KA-BAR knife and sheath, all kinds of tools, a roll of bubble wrap, a coupon for a free ice cream cake at Dairy Queen, paper money (from $50 to $1 bills) and more loose change than we can count (best find, a 1919 dime).

My parents also have been the recipients of Lester Pattoning — even before it had that name.

Tight on money, my parents still wanted a real tree for Christmas. During the family outing headed to buy a tree, a truck hauling a large utility trailer overloaded with Christmas trees was in front of us. Then it happened, a slight gust of wind lifted a tree up and gently placed it on the fog line.

“Pull over, pull over honey,” my mom exclaimed. “God delivered us a Christmas tree.”

And, an item I obtained via Lester Pattoning found its way under the Christmas tree with my mom’s name on it. During a pit stop for our dogs on a road trip to Idaho, I found a cool rock and beaded necklace.

There is was, laying amongst random items (10 pairs of underwear, a bra, some shirts, a box of rice, a box of crackers, ChapStick, three books of matches from the Coeur d’Alene Casino Resort and a travel cup that said, “I Choose the Road Less Traveled ... Now Where the Heck Am I?”) scattered near a department of transportation rock pile.

Dang,

I should have snagged that travel cup, my mom’s birthday is coming up.

Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Fall leaves can be fun, even for adults

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By TAMMY MALGESINI

Inside my shoes

Published on October 14, 2015 6:24PM

Growing up. I often was excused from home and garden tasks.

I conveniently used the excuse of my allergies and asthma to get out of doing things I didn’t enjoy. However, as I’ve gotten older I’ve learned that fall leaves can be fun.

So, before you get set to rake ’em and bag ’em, have some fun with the colorful and crisp leaves that are blowing across your lawn like a snowdrift.

A number of years ago, Suzanne Tosten and I felt bad for Terri Dorran because she didn’t have any trees in her yard. Terri was missing out on the joys that fall leaves ultimately bring.

Dressed incognito for a Halloween party as Wayne and Garth of Saturday Night Live, Suzy and I set out to enrich Terri’s life with a blessing of leaves. Oh sure, we could have gone across the street to the park and raked and gathered leaves, but that would have taken too much effort. Instead, we went to then Hermiston Mayor Frank Harkenrider’s house and removed several of his large decorative lawn leaf bags.

Back at Terri’s house we emptied the bags, creating a blizzard of leaves. It was awesome fun.

Terri’s son, Mitch, was thrilled with the colorful blanket in their front lawn.

“Look mom, look at all the leaves,” he exclaimed with the innocence of youth. “They must have blown over from the park.”

Of course, we couldn’t just steal Harkie’s leaves and call it good. So, a few nights later, we collected the leaves from Terri’s place. Then, on the way to Harkie’s house, we had another bright idea — let’s collect additional lawn leaf bags and set them up in a football formation. (Note: I’m sure the statute of limitations has passed regarding the theft of said leaves, but just in case I want to remind you about something called creative license).

Anyway, along with the three bags we had snagged from Harkie’s lawn earlier, we gathered an additional eight bags between Hermiston and Highland avenues. Back at Harkie’s place, we set up a basic T formation.

With my husband’s gimpy foot and fall in full swing with the leaves starting to fill our yard, I’m likely going to be the one raking and bagging this year. By the way, can someone tell me where Mayor Dave Drotzmann lives? (Also, for your information, many area cities provide its residents with a card or coupon to dispose of yard debris, including fall leaves, free of charge at local landfills. Contact your city hall for details).

Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life and runs every other week in the Hermiston Herald. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

A rose by any other name (or pronunciation) ...

Columnist has a pretty good command of the English language, but sometimes it’s the pronunciation that gets her.

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By TAMMY MALGESINI

INSIDE MY SHOES

Published on September 30, 2015 5:23PM

I like to think I have a pretty good command of the English language, but sometimes it’s the pronunciation that gets me.

I’m glad I’m in print media, because unlike radio and TV, as long as you spell the words correctly, you’re good to go.

I recently fielded a phone call from a Tri-Cities news station inquiring how to pronounce “the local middle school.” A co-worker had told me a news anchor had completely slaughtered the pronunciation of Armand Larive the night before in a newscast.

Just to mess with the guy, I said rather slowly, “Sandstone Middle School.” There was silence on the other end of the phone and then the guy said, “No, another one.” And then he attempted to pronounce Armand Larive.

Honestly, I felt his pain. I’ve had my share of laughable linguistic moments. However, when I mess up on words my audience is generally a small group or just one person — not thousands of TV viewers.

But, my husband doesn’t soon let me forget my phonetic foibles.

Like the time I was talking about a particularly disturbing part in the latest Stephen King novel. Saying it was quite macabre — only pronouncing it mack-a-bree. Or when I was telling him about talking to someone about an episode of “Intervention” and how the situation quickly went awry — pronouncing it awe-ree. And, of course, there was the time I was obtaining information from the concierge desk at a fancy San Francisco hotel. Yup, I messed that one up too, saying kon-kur-odge.

Evidently my linguistic limitations are especially an issue when dealing with French words. I was covering a 4-H horsemanship competition shortly after starting with the newspaper. I didn’t have a clue what dressage was, much less how to pronounce it. I approached someone who appeared to be affiliated with the competition and asked, “What exactly is dressage?” Only I pronounced is like dress-age: dress as in the article of clothing, and age, like what age is the participant. Put that together and it’s nothing like the actual French pronunciation of druh-sahzh.

Luckily, I can laugh at my faux pas — and at least I know that’s not pronounced fox paws.

Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Can opener proves perfect gift

Community Editor Tammy Malgesini finds an unconventional anniversary gift is an ideal upgrade.

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By TAMMY MALGESINI

Inside my shoes

Published on September 15, 2015 10:43AM

I’m not normal.

There, I said it — it’s out there. However, for those that know me, this isn’t any big revelation.

The reason I reiterate this now is my husband, John, got me a can opener for our anniversary. Societal standards have suggested women don’t want appliances as gifts. However, I was thrilled!

On the morning of our 32nd anniversary, I was wondering why there wasn’t a card waiting for me in the bathroom. Over the years, our bathroom has become the communication center where John leaves me messages or cards.

Notations on the dry erase board on the mirror let me know everything from John is working late or planning a Costco run to suggestions for our dinner date or it’s time for me to order more Advantix for our canine kids. Cards are generally left in front of the mirror or dangling from a hook in the ceiling.

John always gets me a card for special occasions. When there was no card to be found in the bathroom Sept. 10, I wondered, “What gives?”

I made my way downstairs to get a glass of Pepsi and feed the dogs. And, there on the kitchen counter was a card and wrapped box. I was quite surprised. My first thoughts were, “We haven’t bought each other anniversary gifts for a number of years” (we generally take a trip) and, “What am I going to get him?”

When I opened the box to reveal a funky new-fangled can opener, I smiled and laughed. You see, I never directly told John I wanted one.

The night before while wrestling a can of refried beans with the 32-year-old Rival can opener, I said in exasperation, “I want a new can opener for our anniversary.”

John, who was chillin’ in his chair in the living room, didn’t respond. There was no knight in shining armor to conquer the can, no comment about how much the can opener sucked and no offer to get the “analog” opener out of our travel kit in the garage. Tired from a long day at work, it was just me and the elusive beans.

Come to find out, he went to Wal-Mart before going to work that morning and chose the Hamilton Beach Smooth Touch model.

Yep, a man that listens and a can opener that cleanly removes the top are both pretty special.

Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539

Inside my shoes: Love to take a photograph ...

Columnist shudders to think that people will someday depend on a cell phone to take their wedding photos, senior pictures or other important events.

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By TAMMY MALGESINI

Community Editor

Published on September 1, 2015 9:35AM

I’m old school. 

Sure, I take photos with my cell phone, but those I plan enlarging, displaying in my home or give as gifts to friends are taken with my Nikon camera. 

Recently, it was World Photo Day. I’d like to think we’re meant to celebrate photos taken with real cameras.

I shudder (not shutter) to think that people will someday depend on a cell phone to take their wedding photos, senior pictures or other important events.

Oh, and I don’t make phone calls from my Nikon. I don’t even want to. When I’m out taking photos, I’m in the zone and don’t want to be interrupted by phone calls.

I’ll admit, I initially drug my feet when it came to digital cameras. However, that wasn’t such a bad thing because technology greatly improved before I shelled out the big bucks to purchase one. Luckily, my Nikon lenses are all compatible.

I recently participated in judging duties in the photography at Umatilla and Morrow county fairs. While I’m sure some of the entries originated from cell phones, the majority of the images were captured with a camera. You know, a stand-alone device you take pictures with.

And don’t even get me started about people who take photos with an iPad — too late. Seriously, this summer I was riding on the Route of the Hiawatha, a remote mountain bike trail in the Bitterroot Mountains of Idaho and Montana, and people were emerging from a tunnel to take photos. 

When someone pulled their iPad out of their backpack, I thought really?!? It’s not like it can hang around your neck like a camera. Besides that, the area is so remote, you can’t immediately upload photos to the Internet.

Cameras are more convenient to pack around when hiking and biking than an iPad. In addition, they provide better quality images.

While I’m talking about cameras, I want to stress more isn’t always better. Check the settings on your camera to ensure you’re shooting at a higher resolution. While your memory card will hold more photos at low resolution, the quality isn’t as good. When you do capture that photo you want to enlarge or submit to the newspaper, it’s not going to be very good quality if you have your settings set too low.

If you need help, check with a camera shop, photography buff or maybe even take a class. Hermiston Parks & Recreation periodically offers classes that are designed to help amateur shutterbugs. The next one is coming up in November, just in time to get some tips before preserving holiday memories.

And who knows, maybe you’ll take some awesome shots and enter them in the 2016 Umatilla County Fair.

Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Inside my shoes: It’s all downhill from here

Tammy Malgesini

East Oregonian

Published on July 4, 2015 1:52PM

Less than 100 yards into the 1.7-mile Taft Tunnel, I had a severe meltdown.

The dark and damp tunnel is the first portion of the 15-mile Route of the Hiawatha, a mountain biking trail along the old Milwaukee Railroad bed in the Bitterroot Mountains of Montana and Idaho.

I could see the flashing red taillight affixed to my husband’s CamelBak approximately 15-20 feet ahead. John is a seasoned mountain biker and I had wanted this to be a fun outing we could share together. However, as I sucked on my asthma inhaler, I was seriously doubting whether I had the mettle to continue pedaling in the darkness.

I first heard about the Route of the Hiawatha from Henry Zitterkob. I told him time and injuries were beginning to take a toll on my body and impacting my ability to participate in some recreational activities.

He asked if I had heard about Hiawatha. Describing the adventure, Henry summarized with, “Even you could do it.”

I didn’t take this as a slam — Henry had been my long-time pharmacist and was aware of my various maladies over the years. 

After breaking my shoulder, forcing me to temporarily lay down my golf clubs, I started riding my bike again. My most recent experience with pedaling was riding a stationary bike after a knee replacement, so cruising around town was refreshing. 

I periodically posted on Facebook about my efforts to get in shape to ride Hiawatha. Former Hermiston resident Cathy Minnick, who now lives a short jaunt from the trail, reminded me the ride was pretty much downhill. Yeah, but if you haven’t been on a bike for awhile that’s gonna be one miserable ride.

Although it’s a gentle 1.7 percent grade, the flat areas require pedaling or you’ll tip over. Besides that, you gotta get your bum in shape to sit on a bike seat for several hours.

So, there I was — my forward progress at a standstill with a poorly lit headlamp strapped to my head.

I’m not sure how John came to the realization I was in distress, but soon he was at my side. Not wanting to put a damper on his Hiawatha experience (too late), I told him to ride ahead as I would be walking my bike through the tunnel. While I said that out loud, he evidently heard my inner voice pleading, “Don’t leave me.”

As people rode towards me in the darkened tunnel, I had two thoughts ... their lights are blinding me and I must get a brighter light.

As I plodded on, my eyes either adjusted to the darkness or my ego wouldn’t let the 75-year-old woman who just passed me show me up. I finally mounted my bike again. And before I knew it, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel ... literally.

Thanks to the encouragement of my husband, I emerged into sunlight to the soothing sight and sound of a waterfall. 

The next 13 miles, metaphorically speaking, was all downhill compared to what I’d already been through. My perseverance was treated to an exhilarating cruise, riding through nine tunnels and across seven high trestles with some of the most spectacular scenery around.

Equipped with a much brighter light, I’ve been back to the Hiawatha nearly a dozen times and look forward to my next trip.

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Contact Community Editor Tammy Malgesini at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Wee bit o’ fun during St. Patrick’s Day

Tammy Malgesini

East Oregonian

Published on March 14, 2015 12:01AM

If you’re taking a look at the entertainment calendar for ideas on what to do this weekend, you don’t need to go any further than the first listing — the Wee Bit O’ Ireland Celebration.

Heppner during St. Patrick’s Day weekend is more than a wee bit o’ fun. And there’s truly something for everyone. In its 33rd year, organizers know how to roll out the green carpet.

When I first moved to the area, I thought Heppner’s celebration was full of raucous behavior and green beer. Although there may be a bit of that, the celebration is known for its variety of activities, including family-friendly fun. But don’t be surprised if you see a few leprechauns running around.

I’ve enjoyed watching the sheep dog trials and the Welly Toss — even trying my hand at launching a Wellington boot as far as I can. But, hands down, my favorite part of the festival is the KUMA Coffee “Hour.”

With KUMA radio host Tom Melton, Father Gerry Condon and U.S. Rep. Greg Walden, R-Hood River, the stories and blarney won’t get much better. Walden, who also will hold a town hall meeting at 8 a.m., has been a regular on the coffee hour.

The representative first attended Wee Bit O’ Ireland in the early to mid-90s as a way to reach out to an area he represented in the state Senate. In 2012 — the year he was honored as the event’s grand marshal — he told an East Oregonian reporter that he continues to come because he enjoys the event.

The coffee hour’s musical entertainment is top-notch with the Irish Singers on hand, as well as Joe Lindsay, who will sing the ever-popular “Grand Marshal Song.” For those who don’t know Lindsay, he’s known for his knack in writing songs about a person’s characteristics and personality as sort of a musical roast at events. The Irish Singers, whose members hail from across the region, have been performing at the festivities for more than two decades.

And you won’t want to miss the Irish Brogue Contest and a chance to win a fistful of cash.

The coffee hour, which is really 90 minutes, runs from 10-11:30 a.m. upstairs at the Heppner Elks Lodge. You’ll want to get there early, because it always draws a full house.

There are a couple of new activities I’m hoping to check out — the tour of Talking Rocks, which includes some history of the area, and the Hurling & Gaelic Football demonstration. Although they say no experience is necessary to participate, I’ll play it safe by staying in the stands.

During my first Wee Bit O’ Ireland Celebration, someone told me everyone’s Irish in Heppner over St. Paddy’s weekend — just be sure and add the O’ in front of your name.

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Tammy Malgesini is the EO community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.