Pepsi addict cashes in her can collection

10/6/2009














Pepsi addict cashes in her can collection

By TAMMY MALGESINI
East Oregonian

They were everywhere.

At the end of my kitchen cabinet, under my desk at work, in a corner in the garage and on the floor of my car - empty cans and bottles. As much as I want my deposit back, I detest having to stand on a sticky floor, smell the pungent odor of stale beer and feel the pain in my shoulder as I feed them into the machines.

I typically donate them to Special Olympics, the Umatilla High School cheerleaders or Agape House, but the last few weeks I've eyed the ever-sprawling piles and thought it would be a nice chunk of change to take with me to the coast. But, was it worth it?

It takes forever. And just when you're getting into a rhythm, you hit the daily limit and have to go to another store.

I almost took a friend's offer to help me for half the take - at least it could turn into a social event.

However, when I was cleaning out my computer bag I found several pages from the Oregon Administrative Rule, which outlined the Beverage Container Act. It's not the sort of material you curl up with and read in front of the fire, but I needed information from it when I was doing a story about the Oregon bottle bill.

It would come in handy again. Carefully counted into separate bags of 144 for larger stores and 50 for convenience stores, I embarked on a quest to get my nickels back.

As I entered the first retailer, I announced I had containers to return for deposit. The clerk told me she could take 100 containers. The other place would tell me their policy was to take up to 96.

In both stores, I responded, "According to the Oregon Administrative Rule I can bring in 144." Clerks at both places repeated their policy to me. After I showed them information from the OAR, they had to talk to their supervisor. (Sure, I could have taken the extra 44/48 cans and taken them someplace else, but that meant another stop. The whole idea was to get my deposits back while expending the least amount of energy and be home in time to watch the east coast feed of "The Amazing Race" ).

I went through my song and dance again, showing the supervisor the OAR, which states in part, "Dealers must not use this rule to frustrate the requirement of the Beverage Container Act that dealers accept returns of up to 144 beverage containers ..."

I truly do understand the frustration of retailers - they don't have room to store them before they are picked up and they have to deal with some yucky cans and bottles. I have frustrations too. I've paid a deposit, they stack up around my house and when I'm ready to return them I'd like the transaction to be as simple as when I purchased the container in the first place.

It seems the Oregon Administrative Rule trumps store policy.

I'm sure it's not every day retailers get someone coming in quoting the OAR and even packing a copy. I think one supervisor thought this was some sort of Beverage Container Act enforcement operation - similar to the tobacco enforcement decoys or Oregon Liquor Control Commission minor decoy operations.

No, it was just a Pepsi addict wanting some extra cash.
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Tammy Malgesini is the EO community editor. Her column, Inside my shoes, appears every other week. You can reach her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Melton, Miller provide dose of Round-Up spirit

09/17/2009

Melton, Miller provide dose of Round-Up spirit

By TAMMY MALGESINI

East Oregonian

I got a healthy dose of Round-Up spirit Saturday morning thanks to Tom Melton and Bob Miller, announcers for the Main Street Cowboys Dress-Up Parade.

You know how stores have Christmas things out and it’s not even Thanksgiving yet? Well, the newsroom is the same way. Before the Umatilla County Fair even began, we were already writing copy for the East Oregonian’s Round-Up magazine.

So, by the time the first horse gets ready to buck, my Round-Up spirit is nearly depleted.
Sometimes when looking at the coming events calendar it’s a tough call trying to decide what to cover for the weekend. However, after a quick glance early last week, I knew as the Saturday reporter I’d be hanging out on the streets of Pendleton for the Dress-Up Parade, often called the kick-off event for the Pendleton Round-Up.

Sure, everyone loves a parade, but as the week continued, I pondered how I should approach doing the story. Later in the week, I found out I also needed to take photos. Then on Friday, EO Managing Editor Skip Nichols asked me to take video footage.

It was this juggling act that prompted me to stake out a spot near the announcer’s table.
Having met the M & Ms a couple of years ago, I re-introduced myself to Melton and Miller, and then proceeded to set up my temporary encampment.

Within moments, I knew I was in the right place. I chuckled out loud as the pair bantered back and forth.

Although they had some written information on many of the entries, it was the duo’s spontaneous ad-libbing with each other and many who passed in front of them on the parade route that added to the experience - that and the shower of Tootsie Rolls raining on the stage area, courtesy of the Happy Canyon directors.

For those of you who missed the Dress-Up Parade, there’s another chance to rev up your Round-Up spirit during Friday’s Westward Ho! Parade. I encourage you to sidle up to the announcer’s table for Round 2 of Melton and Miller’s parade tour. However, if you can’t make it to downtown Pendleton, tune in to 1240 KTIX for a live broadcast of the unique non-motorized parade.
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Tammy Malgesini is the EO community editor. Her column, Inside my shoes, appears every other week. You can reach her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Spiders: friend or foe?

9/3/2009

A spider is suspended among a network of webs near the Interstate 82 bridge on the Columbia River.Staff photo by Tammy Malgesini

Spiders: friend or foe?
By TAMMY MALGESINI
East Oregonian

A Web site I recently went to said most spiders are small, inconspicuous and harmless to humans.

Whatever.

Sure, they're small if compared to, let's say, an elephant. But regardless of their size, the creepy, crawly, arachnids make my skin crawl.

And inconspicuous - yeah, right.

My husband and I took our dog to a spot along the Columbia River recently, yet because of hundreds of the "little" web-swingers, we couldn't even make it down the trail to the water.

Jeter, our German shepherd, was oblivious to the situation. He merely headed down the trail, periodically trotting back to nudge us forward.

Feeling the dangling webs as he headed further down the path, John grabbed a piece of brush and waved it in the air as he pressed onward to the river.

As I followed behind I tried to stay focused on the trail, but out of the corner of my eyes I could see hundreds of spiders.

Now just for a frame of reference regarding my disdain for the creepy creatures, just a few days before our excursion to the river I sat on my bed and yelled, "Speeder!" as I pointed to single, solitary spider that was crawling on the wall three feet away from me.

As part of our marriage vows, John promptly responded and the spider met its maker.Now let's look at the definition of harmless: Not intended to harm or offend; inoffensive.

Well, the spiders may not have intended to offend, but they did. I found it upsetting that they had overtaken an area I've enjoyed bringing my dog to during past summers, not to mention raising my blood pressure and causing sweat to pour from my brow.

In wrestling with the question of whether spiders are friend or foe, I recognize they are a food source for numerous animals - birds, mammals and amphibians. So if you see some starving or vagrant-looking animal, tell them there's an all-you-can-eat spider buffet available below the Interstate 82 bridge on the Washington side of the Columbia River.
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Tammy Malgesini is the EO community editor. Her column, Inside My shoes, appears every other week. You can reach her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Corn salad takes its toll on reporter's tooth

8/18/2009

Corn salad takes its toll on reporter's tooth
By TAMMY MALGESINI
East Oregonian

Even though I laid tilted back in the chair, my legs crossed at the ankles, I was anything but relaxed.

I used to think having to do laundry on vacation was totally wrong; however, as I sat in the dentist's chair last month in Moab, Utah, I decided I would rather wash my clothes by beating it across the area's signature red rocks than have my mouth wide open while Dr. Norman Barber drilled away.

John and I had just returned to the hotel on the night of our arrival in Moab when it happened. While eating some southwestern corn and black bean salad there was a crunch - I broke a tooth. And then my tongue just couldn't stay away from the suspect tooth - resulting in a twinge of pain each time it pushed the jagged edge into my gums.

While I should have been focused on an outdoor itinerary of which trail we were going to explore on our all-terrain vehicle, instead I was perusing the Web sites of Moab dentists. And how does one choose a dentist far away from home? Do I choose a solo dentist whose practice merely goes by the dentist's name or how about clinics that incorporate the geography of southeastern Utah in their name like Red Rock Dental or Arches Dental Clinic?

I finally decided to get input from the hotel desk clerk. After explaining my situation, she wished me luck, saying it's difficult to get into a dentist on short notice - even if you're an established patient. So I resorted to looking for any indication on the Web sites that the dentist would take kindly to my plight. When I saw the word "emergencies," I figured Barber's practice was my best bet.

When I called, the receptionist asked me which tooth it was. Although I now know it's tooth number 29, at the time all I knew is it was the one digging into my gums each time my tongue wandered. After I sufficiently described which tooth was bothersome to me, she granted me an appointment time.

When I asked where their office was located, she said, "380 North 500 West." Despite what I'm told is a simple address coordinate system based on grids, I don't understand when people give me an address that includes two sets of numbers. And after following the directions from Mapquest, I found comfort in knowing I'm not the only one it confuses.

I wouldn't say it was a painless experience, because, well, it was a trip to the dentist, but after sitting there with my mouth open for what seemed like an eternity, I finally was patched up and ready to enjoy the rest of my vacation.

While hiking, climbing and riding through the beautiful red rock region, I had no further mishaps; however, I didn't eat anymore of the suspect southwestern salad.
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Tammy Malgesini is the EO community editor. Her column, Inside my shoes, appears every other week. You can reach her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Road trips provide chances to reconnect

7/29/2009

Road trips provide chances to reconnect
By TAMMY MALGESINI
East Oregonian

Climbing into the seat next to my husband as we set out for vacation brought as much giddiness and excitement as the old E-Ticket rides at Disneyland when I was a kid. Sure there was the anticipation of the trip in general, but I was looking forward to actually riding with John. In an effort to stretch my vacation days as much as possible, the last couple of years John would hit the road with our toys and utilizing my SkyMiles, I'd fly to an airport near our destination.

Well, the excitement of being in the truck lasted until about ... Cabbage Hill.

In the four years since I last took an extended road trip, I forgot how confining the cab of the pickup is. To help pass the time (and refrain from critiquing John's driving), I read several newspapers, some chapters from Rolf Potts' book, "Marco Polo Didn't Go There," and the atlas. Note to self: Get more reading material for the drive home.

Although the atlas will never make a list of best sellers or a Pulitzer Prize, it did provide information for a little travel trivia. (Name the states that are larger than Oregon, identify the capital of each state and list the three least populated states in order.) On a side note - I'm amazed that the entire state of Wyoming has less people than the city of Portland.

And what trip would be complete without the periodic query of, "Are we there yet?"

As we drove through Salt Lake City, the sky darkened, the wind kicked up and it started to pour down rain. I suddenly became quite worried about my golf clubs, which were standing straight up in the bed of the truck, wedged between the ATV and the back wheel well. I pressed my nose against the window and peered into the darkness - trying to see how they were holding up.

As the storm continued, I verbalized my concerns with a running commentary, which alternated between the booming thunder and jagged lightning, other drivers on the road, the decreased visibility and my golf clubs.

Later as the weather subsided, I said to John: "Haven't you missed having me ride with you on vacation?"

"It really is a different experience," he responded.
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Tammy Malgesini is the EO's community editor. Her column, Inside my shoes, will appear every other week. You can reach her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com of 541-564-4539.

Off-road riding results in addiction

7/14/2009

Tammy Malgesini rides an all-terrain vehicle last month at the Winom-Frazier Off-Highway Complex, located east of Ukiah. Photo contributed by John Malgesini

Off-road riding results in addiction
By TAMMY MALGESINI
East Oregonian

My name is Tammy and I'm an ATV addict.It started out innocently enough. My need to wander off the beaten path was satisfied by some mellow off-road excursions in my husband's truck and renting all-terrain vehicles while on vacation.

However, a mishap a couple of years ago near Moab, Utah fed my need to get off-road.

John and I grabbed a brochure from the visitor's center and headed to several locations with Indian petroglyphs. As we followed the directions, we had little difficulty finding the panels - that is until John tried to kill me.

I admit I'm an adrenaline junkie, but I'm also a little bit chicken. I like to think it's what keeps me from totally going off the edge.

John had been driving quite conservatively as we headed to the last site, which also included an arch. I made the mistake of challenging his manhood.

"You don't have to drive like a grandma, we have four-wheel drive," I said to him.

This statement came back to haunt me as it fueled his hell-bent determination to forge on.

My nearly hysterical response as the road got more and more treacherous finally convinced John to turn around.

Because of that nail-biting experience, I wanted to get an ATV before heading to Moab last summer. I figured the smaller rig could maneuver more easily on the ledge roads.

I became obsessed.

Unbeknownst to John, I began looking at advertisements for ATVs. Next, I was going to stores and sitting on them - with eyes closed, my mind transported itself to the switchback shelf road on the way to the elusive arch.

Then when one of my friends told me her husband purchased a new ATV and was selling his old one, I told her I wanted to buy it but I had to sell John on the idea.

That simple purchase changed me. I went from being perfectly happy with periodic off-road excursions to being totally obsessed.

I've straddled the ATV and spun cookies in the back yard. I've opened the gate and cruised from our mailbox on the street to our back fence line. And I even cruised a couple of blocks down the snow-covered sidewalk to my dog sitter's house this past winter.

When the spring weather finally got nicer, John and I made trips to Winom-Frazier Off-Highway Complex and Morrow-Grant OHV Park. Also, while working on a story for the outdoor page, we headed to The Bike Pit Pilot Rock Motocross & OHV Park.

As a child I struggled to stay within the lines when I colored - as an adult riding an ATV, boundaries have merely become a starting point.
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Tammy Malgesini is the EO's community editor. Her column, Inside my shoes, will appear every other week. You can reach her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com of 541-564-4539.

Jai's last ride

3/29/2009

Despite his size, Jai always wanted to be a lap dog.

Jai's last ride
By TAMMY MALGESINI
The East Oregonian

The day Barack Obama was inaugurated as the 44th president of the United States always will be a memorable day for me. It's the same day we had to put down Jai, our 141⁄2-year-old Airedale terrier.

Jai took his last ride to the vet in the Bronco - very fitting since it's the vehicle John and I bought specifically for our canine kids.

The difference this time is he wasn't bouncing from the back seat to the rear with slobber flapping in the wind - anticipating a romp along the river.

Or was he? I'd like to think there's a special place for dogs and one day the Malgesini pack will be reunited.

As we walked into Oregon Trail Vet Clinic I chuckled to myself, remembering a past time I took Jai when he was, well, sicker than a dog. He hadn't been eating or drinking, so I loaded him into the car and took him to the doggie doc.

As I drove down the street he laid still in the back seat, which was very uncharacteristic. He sauntered slowly into the vet clinic, but then out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. Perched on a short dividing wall was a large stuffed dog. He lurched at it and, before I could react, he pounced on it. In the ensuing melee, he bit his tongue.

When we entered the examination room, he was panting profusely with slobber and blood pouring from his mouth. The doggie doc looked at him and asked how long he'd been like that.

"He had a fight with your stuffed dog in the waiting room and lost," I said with a laugh.

Losing a canine kid is tough, even though you know from the outset you're going to outlive them. John and I stayed in the room as Dr. Mark Sargent put the needle into Jai's leg. Only a few moments had passed when he told us Jai was gone and then he slipped out the door so we could say our final good-byes. Over the years, John didn't cut the hair on Jai's head, which resulted in dreadlocks - very fitting for his middle name of Rastafari. I told John I wanted one of the dreads. When I got home, I taped it to the bathroom mirror.

The next day, I sat on the floor with a bunch of photo albums. John and I laughed as we flipped through the pages - remembering how Jai used to lay under the coffee table, but had to move to the kitchen table as he got bigger, how he learned to go up the stairs several weeks before he mastered descending them and he'd stand at the top whining for us to rescue him, how he'd balk at opening Christmas presents because the rest of the year we'd chastise him for "getting into things" and how he innately knew when John put on a certain pair of shoes it meant he was going to go for a walk.

We have a three-page "manifesto" plastered on the kitchen cupboard on how to care for the dogs when we're out of town. When we've needed a new dog sitter, it was Jai and Jeter, our German shepherd, who screened potential candidates.

We've always been a two-dog family and with the loss of Jai, there's a hole in our family. I know Jai will never be replaced, but when it's time we'll find another canine kid to join the Malgesini pack.
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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor for the East Oregonian. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com.