New phone and narcotics don’t mix

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on May 24, 2016 1:00PM

Here’s a tip for you: Don’t make phone calls, send texts or make social media posts while under the influence — of ANYTHING!

A few days after I had my hand and knee surgery last month, I received a message from Renee Struthers, my co-worker who takes care of community stuff when I’m out.

“Are you on some strong painkillers,” she said through Facebook Messenger. “You left a … sort of rambling message earlier.”

I sat there looking at my shiny new Droid Turbo 2 and thought, “I haven’t made any phone calls.”

However, when I looked in the call log there was irrefutable evidence that suggested otherwise.

I later figured out what happened. I was attempting to respond to Renee in either Messenger or by text through voice-to-post (it was much easier to talk into the phone rather than typing with one hand).

Between being confused with my new phone and being under the influence of narcotics, I evidently called her desk line. While attempting to voice-to-post, I was talking into my phone but the words weren’t coming up on the screen. So, I would pause and repeat what I was trying to convey in the message — thus the “rambling.” In addition, there was likely some extra commentary such as, “Why the #$%@ isn’t it working? Stupid &^%$@ phone.”

Honestly, I don’t even know why they call them smartphones. Mine is dumb.

I’m sure others have had similar situations. We all know there’s a learning curve whenever getting a new smartphone.

I remember when new cell phones came with a small book that provided the ins and outs of the new device. Those days are gone. It seems a bit odd that the more complicated devices have become, the less information they provide with it.

I guess you’re supposed to conduct a Google search to figure things out — that is, if you can get on the Internet. That was the initial issue with my husband’s new phone.

The tech support person I talked to said John needed a Gmail account. I suggested he could just use mine. Without providing an explanation, the tech dude said that wasn’t recommended.

Whatever!

Well, turns out he was right — it wasn’t a good idea. When my hundreds of work-related contacts showed up on John’s phone, he was none too pleased.

And, don’t even get me started about auto-correct. Most of the time, it ends up being auto-wrong.

———

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.

Two-for-one specials not always the best deal

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on May 10, 2016 11:11AM

I’m a bargain shopper. I mean, who doesn’t like two-for-one specials?

In spite of how practical it may sound to have two surgical procedures done at the same time — think twice before doing it.

I figured since I was being knocked out last month, I might as well get my hand and knee fixed at the same time. When I told my friends about my upcoming surgery, they responded with dismay.

“I figured why not take care of both at the same time,” I told them. “Heck, if I could get another surgeon in there I’d have a colonoscopy, too.”

As patient number eight at Dr. Richard Carpenter’s office, I’ve had my share of orthopedic procedures over the years — including a right hand carpal tunnel and several knee procedures.

What I forgot to factor into the equation was that I’m a few years older, which results in a longer healing process. Also, without the use of one hand, it makes it rather difficult to use crutches.

However, before I even attempted to become ambulatory, I came to the realization that having both procedures done at the same time wasn’t my best decision in recent years.

All bandaged up, my left hand was rendered useless. And, I couldn’t bend my right arm because of the placement of the IV.

My generally jovial post-op personality was nowhere to be found. There was no singing of songs or laughter — I was miserable.

As I came to in the recovery area, my nose itched, my hat wasn’t quite right on my head, I was hungry and I was thirsty. And I was a pain in the ….

The nurses in the Good Shepherd Medical Center day surgery area were great. Despite my less-than-pleasant demeanor, they maintained their professionalism. For that, I’m very grateful.

With my healing process in full swing, I can now tip my hat to them and say thanks. And, in recognition of National Nurses Week (May 6-12), I encourage you to thank a nurse for all they do.

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.

Elephants provide support for women in herd

Simple gift became a meaningful symbol and a precious reminder of a friend.

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on April 5, 2016 12:01PM

I don’t drink coffee, but I’m part of an informal coffee klatch that meets periodically to socialize and offer support to one another.

Known as “The Herd,” people might notice most of the women in our group have an affinity for elephants — sporting elephant tattoos, owning elephant jewelry or possessing elephant art or stuffed animals. The name came about when some friends and I learned about the behavior of female elephants in the wild.

As described by the World Wildlife Fund, female elephants are part of a complex social structure. While adult male elephants live mostly in isolation, the females share in the rearing and protection of the youngest or most vulnerable members of the herd. They take special care in knowing each member’s whereabouts when the herd is traveling or approaching danger.

We grabbed onto that and over the years it has grown. It’s hard to even say how many belong to The Herd. But, I know if I called one of them, they’d show up — and probably with a few more in tow.

Shopping for gifts is pretty easy with others in The Herd — whenever a special occasion comes up, an elephant is always an appropriate present. Such was the case during a Christmas gathering with four friends back in 2010.

I found four ceramic marble elephant statues at T.J. Maxx. The one I gave Judy Hayes was purple, which turned out to be quite appropriate — about 18 months later, she was diagnosed with cancer. Purple is the color of hope for Relay for Life.

That was the first elephant Judy had received. It, and the “Elephant Story,” as she called it, became a source of strength for her as she battled cancer.

Right before starting chemotherapy, Judy got an elephant tattoo with a little red heart. A number of her family members followed suit — joining her herd.

“You will always be the loved one who taught me about the strength of the herd. I will always love you for that,” she sent in a text several years ago. “The herd continues to surround me & I am very blessed.”

During the last year of her life, Judy sent two cards with similar thanks about introducing her to the “Elephant Story.” She shared what it meant to her and how it spread to former co-workers at Two Rivers Correctional Institution, churches and prayer chains, as her friends and extended family shared the story across the country.

My eyes filled with tears this past weekend as several members of The Herd met for coffee at Starbucks. As part of her final will and testament, Judy directed that the purple elephant be returned to me.

A simple gift — costing maybe $15 — is now priceless because of what it did for my friend while she battled cancer. Rest in peace Judy Hayes.

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.

DIY: To paint or not to paint

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on April 12, 2016 12:01AM

Enthusiastic first-time homeowners back in the early 1990s, my husband and I decided we wanted to paint our house.

I say “we” rather loosely — John is a teacher, so he was off for the summer and the bulk of the job was left to him and our friends Dave and Chris Alteneder.

We wanted to put our personal fingerprint on the house by choosing new colors. John envisioned a black house with red trim. Dave suggested black may not be the best color, so we went with gray.

The Alteneders, friends we met back in our college days, traveled from Newberg to help us. Dave, who also was an educator, supplemented the family income by painting houses during the summer months, so he had spraying gear and other supplies.

We discovered that the tiny paint strips that show the color doesn’t always translate the same once it’s up on the siding or trim. Unfortunately, we learned this too late. Geranium, the trim color, was hot pink rather than a deeper red. I guess we could have re-painted it, but by that time everyone was pretty much spent on the project.

Fast forward 15 years later when John thought the house needed to be painted again. He suggested we forgo our regular summer vacation plans and use the time and money to paint the house. I quickly put the brakes on that silly talk — I look forward to our summer trips together and wasn’t up for painting in the sweltering heat.

Because of the way vacation accrued when I started at the East Oregonian in April 2006, I wasn’t eligible to take time off for an entire year. That meant no summer vacation that year — so I revived John’s idea about painting the house that summer. Well, that didn’t happen — instead, John packed up and hit the road without me.

As the years went on, it became clear the house needed a new coat. In 2013, I became motivated to take action after a crew knocked on the door and asked if we wanted an estimate to have our house painted.

I figured we would save money if we just did it ourselves. So, I pitched the idea to John and off to the store we went to get paint. We chose “deep space,” which is pretty close to black, for the main part of the house. In addition, we got gray for the trim and red (NOT pink this time) for the shutters and doors.

We started the project in late July and I finished the front door on August 31. Yup, the hottest time of year in Hermiston and we were out there painting. I’m not a morning person, so I truly was painting in the heat of the day. I sported a “Karate Kid” headband that I kept dipping in water. In addition, I finally talked John into a little pool. Those two things probably saved me from heatstroke.

Although, John used a sprayer when climbing on scaffolding to get the highest part of the split-level, we used brushes and paint pads for most of the project.

In retrospect, I wish I had said yes when the paint crew asked if I wanted an estimate.

———

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.

Scalper strikes out while swinging for the cheap seats

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on April 19, 2016 1:56PM

A pair of $20 bills were pulsating in my pocket as a young man demanded his money back.

The 20-something guy was a ticket scalper outside Turner Field in Atlanta — and I had just played him.

My frustration with scalpers had been brewing within. A longtime baseball fan, I was looking forward to attending the 1998 All-Star Game in Denver. However, due to the antics of ticket scalpers, my husband and I couldn’t get decent-priced tickets. Evidently, that disappointment gave me the resolve to put one over on the unsuspecting Atlanta scalper a few years later.

Scalpers obtain tickets — or even make counterfeit ones — with the purpose of making a profit by selling them for ridiculous prices. At the time, they tried not to draw attention to themselves because Georgia state law made it illegal to sell tickets for more than face value. They often held signs that said, “Need tickets.”

Part of the perk of purchasing reserved tickets on the official Atlanta Braves website was receiving a couple of cheap seat tickets for any game. They had no cash value printed on them, but I later figured they were worth maybe $5 each.

I told the dude I had tickets, good for any game. He obviously didn’t listen, glanced at them and offered me $20 each. We never stopped walking — the conversation and transaction was on the fly as John and I continued toward the stadium.

I shoved the $40 into my pocket and the guy turned back the other way. Then half a block later I could faintly hear, “Hey lady.” I kept walking — there were lots of ladies on the sidewalk. Then louder, “Hey lady, I don’t want these tickets.”

Soon, the guy caught up to us and said he wanted his money back. He said the tickets weren’t for that day’s game. I reminded him I said upfront they were good for any game and he made the deal.

He quietly protested and continued to follow us. Little did this guy know, I wasn’t easily intimidated. Back in the day, I wouldn’t give up my Pepsi and Pizza Rolls to a knife-wielding dude outside a 7-Eleven in north Portland — but that’s a story for another column.

Holding my hand, John quickened our pace and we soon disappeared into the crowd at the stadium — leaving the guy in our dust.

I had just scammed a scalper — and I didn’t feel bad about it.

———

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.

Pet ownership benefits health

Dog may be the best friend of man and woman, but the four-legged pal can test your patience too.

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on March 15, 2016 12:01AM

When asked if I have children, I tell people I have two canine kids.

John and I are currently raising Lucifer, 6, and the General, 3, both German shepherds. And, they are very important members of the Malgesini pack.

It seems life insurance companies also understand the value of dog ownership in regards to a person’s health. When I was shopping for a new policy, among the questions my insurance agent asked was did I own a dog.

An article I recently read on WebMD also touted the benefits of being a pet owner. Written by Jeanie Lerche Davis, “5 Ways Pets Can Improve Your Health” was reviewed for inclusion on the site by Dr. Louise Chang, who is board certified in internal medicine. The article isn’t merely a pet lover gushing about their animals — the content is actually endorsed by a medical professional.

“Pets help lower blood pressure and lessen anxiety,” Davis said in the article.

While I totally agree with this, I also can attest that pets can act out in ways that raise your blood pressure and increase anxiety. Like the time Lucifer chewed the remote control — then a short time later, he gnawed another and then a third one.

Growing up during the pre-remote control world, the convenience of changing the channel without having to get up is now firmly embedded in our lifestyle. After the third remote bit the dust, Lucifer and I had a serious sit-down.

Lucifer is John’s dog and his affinity for remote controls was putting his status as man’s best friend at risk. Even though my lecture probably was comprehended as, “Lucifer, blah, blah, blah ... no, blah, blah, blah,” he seemed to understand the severity of the situation and discontinued the attack on the remote controls.

As for my dog, the General seems to exhibit symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder. At about 6 months old he got weird about drinking out of only one bowl in the house.

Overall, it’s not a big deal if he prefers running downstairs to get a drink — even though he jumped over a perfectly good bowl of water sitting next to the daybed. However, it becomes an issue when that’s the only bowl he’ll consume water from.

One time during a pack outing, I was concerned that he’d become dehydrated or get heatstroke. Panting heavily, his tongue was dangling from his mouth. I finally ended up sucking water out of my CamelBak and then spit it into his mouth. While he didn’t protest, I’m sure it looked rather odd to anyone who might have witnessed it.

Our dogs definitely add to our life ... and you just can’t beat the excitement they exhibit when greeting us at the door after a long day at work.

———

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.

Road trip leads to special moments with family

Community editor relishes in return trip to family home on the Oregon Coast.

By 

By TAMMY MALGESINI

Inside my shoes

Published on March 1, 2016 3:30PM

After returning from a road trip to visit my folks — I was reminded that there are things about being someone’s kid that really rock.

Despite the fact that I’m a college graduate, have a full-time job, pay a home mortgage and have been married for 32 years, whenever I go to Coos Bay I’m “Kidlet No. 2.”

My mom always tells me, “It doesn’t matter how old you are, you’ll always be my little girl.”

Since Coos Bay is about a 15-hour round-trip drive from Hermiston, it’s not a weekend destination. Needing to take some time off from work, I figured it was the perfect opportunity to cruise across the state to see my folks.

While talking on the phone confirming plans for the trip, I asked my mom if she’d make roast. Over the years I’ve ruined many good cuts of meat trying to replicate my favorite family Sunday dinner. One time I even got cooking tips from an octogenarian while at the funeral of a former boss’s mom. Even though I wouldn’t be there on a Sunday, my mom was more than happy to prepare a roast for her “Tammy Sue.”

I packed the Jeep and headed out last Tuesday afternoon with the General, my 3-year-old German shepherd. He makes a great traveling partner, but since he doesn’t share in the driving duties I made a pit stop in Woodburn. In addition to being about halfway to Coos Bay, it provided an opportunity to get some shoes for my husband at the outlet mall and have lunch with some old friends.

I arrived in Coos Bay the next evening just in time for dinner. And, as luck would have it, my mom had prepared meatloaf — another one of my favorites. As we ate dinner, my pops asked me what I wanted to do while I was in town. I didn’t have much of an agenda, I wanted to go to the student store at Marshfield High School — my alma mater — to get a baseball hat and do some junkin’ in second hand stores.

My mom was giddy with excitement to have me home. Sitting in the living room, we took a jaunt down memory lane — sharing stories from days gone by. I couldn’t believe my mom was still up. Oftentimes when I call, she’s already in bed by 8 p.m.

When my eyes started to droop, I finally retired to “the pink bedroom.” When I lived in that room, it had obnoxious smiley face wallpaper. If you think that sounds dreadful, imagine how I felt as a 17-year-old waking up with a hangover with yellow, orange and pink smiley faces everywhere.

The next day, my brother joined us all for lunch at a Mexican restaurant. Partway through the meal my mom’s face was beaming. “I have both my kidlets here,” she said. It had been almost four years since our whole family was all together.

That moment made the whole trip worth it — that and the roast beef dinner my mom and brother prepared.

———

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.