Heather Cunningham's Dandelife : The story of Heather Cunningham's life

1st Anniversary

Heather Cunningham — Wed Nov 08 21:00:21 UTC 2006

Our First Anniversary is coming up and Jason's done all the planning. All I know is that we're headed to LA on Saturday, going to dinner, staying at some hotel, and the rest shall remain a mystery until Saturday night.

More to come...

We went to LA for the weekend, staying at the Ramada, having dinner at Chocolat (YUM!), and went to the House of Blues where we were entertained by Superdiamond! They're a Neil Diamond cover band and I swear if you closed your eyes, you'd think that Neil, in the flesh, was up on stage. It was such a fun night and I couldn't have planned it better myself.

SF and Birthday Surprises

Heather Cunningham — Tue Oct 17 19:52:32 UTC 2006

For Jason’s birthday I wanted to surprise him and take him to San Francisco. Having moved up there right after college and spending 5 or 6 years there, he had many fond memories attached to this city.

I got us tickets to fly up on Friday morning and return on Sunday. We stayed down by Union Square in one of those chic, boutique hotels – this one was called the Commodore. It had a bar attached to it called the Red Room. Funny place – red leather, red velvet, red everything!

I thought it would be fun to go see some live music, so we went to Jazz at Pearls and saw a lady named Kim Nally. She was awesome! The place was great! It was the perfect entertainment and ambiance for sipping martini’s (mine was a lemon drop).

We also managed that weekend to go to his favorite restaurant – Beetlenut. And checked out Crepes on Haight (I think that’s what it was called).

Good times, good times.

Bitter Traveler

Heather Cunningham — Tue Oct 17 19:14:28 UTC 2006

I miss pre- 9/11 travel! I hate the long lines at security. I hate that when I get off a flight, my daughter and boyfriend can’t be waiting for me at the gate with hugs and kisses. I hate that you can’t take lip gloss on a plane in your purse, unless you put it in a clear plastic bag no bigger than a quart, but yet the friendly and ever helpful airport employees don’t have those for you to use and therefore you are forced to throw out 8 of your lip glosses, making your trip cost you an additional $80 right off the bat. I hate that on your return flight home you have gotten a clear plastic bag no bigger than a quart and are trying really, really hard to comply with these new restrictions, but alas your hair gloss is in a 4oz. bottle and 3.5oz. is the limit, however, one security checkpoint employee thinks you may be able to get it through since there only seems to be 1oz. left in the bottle…but that too is confiscated and your trip has now cost you $100 more. I hate that I am okay with racial profiling at airports and wish they would do that! I think I hate that the most.

Chicken Devan is Devine!

Heather Cunningham — Thu Sep 07 21:15:21 UTC 2006

I prepared Chicken Devan – a sinfully good casserole dish with chicken, broccoli, cream of chicken soup, mayo, lemon juice, bread crumbs and cheese, with more cheese, and a little extra cheese. Jason had 3 helpings of it – I think he may be a fan of this dish.

In an effort to make dinnertime easier and not have to make two separate meals for our family, we’ve been trying to encourage Micaela to try new things or old things with minor variations. We’ve been tempting her palate and diet with more green veggies, and having had success the other day with spinach salad, I thought broccoli wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

Boy was I wrong!

She whined, she grimaced, she shuddered, she kept trying to change the subject. Finally out of exhaustion and frustration, Jason gave her the option of no dinner at all and ten minutes in the time out corner, or she could sit down and eat with us.

In her newfound 7 year-old attitude, she chose the ten minutes and not having to suffer through eating. Not really a choice. So we ratified those options and she was left with sitting down and eating with us or getting ten minutes in the corner, going straight to bed, and having to eat it in the morning for breakfast.

This time she chose to sit and eat – however short-lived it was. She took just a few bites and it was off to bed.

It's All Buffy's Fault

Heather Cunningham — Thu Sep 07 21:09:16 UTC 2006

It was the summer of ’79, I was 4, Buffy was 2 ½. This was back in the day when it was okay to let your kids play in the front yard without fear of someone driving by and snatching them. Our only rule was that we had to stay in the front yard. No playing in the street or at the neighbor’s house. It seemed simple enough.

Buffy was very head strong (still is). She got it in her mind that she was going to walk around the “big block”, something we were only allowed to do with mom, dad, or Mor Mor. She took off down the street, as I contemplated what to do. I ran after her and tried to get her to stop. At this point we were already down on Lilac Avenue, the busy street.

Apparently the neighbor saw us and phoned my mom. Mom grabbed the fly swatter and zipped on down to the corner where we were. When she caught up to us, she yelled at us for straying from the front yard.

“But mommy…”, I tried to explain. She wanted no explanation for what we had done. She turned us in the direction of our house and took that fly swatter and swatted our butts alternately – mine, then Buffy’s, then mine again. I put my hands on my butt, crying the whole way home…the long way home. She made us go around the entire cul-de-sac – SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.

I don’t remember if it was that same night after everyone calmed down, that my mom finally listened to my version of what had happened. I was being the big sister, saving my little sister from the danger of the busy street that loomed around the corner. She apologized for spanking me, but obviously the image of that spanking has stayed in my head for almost 28 years.

Micaela Rose - Second Grader Extraordinier

Heather Cunningham — Thu Sep 07 19:52:39 UTC 2006

My baby started second grade today. I got up, made her a good (by Micaela standards) breakfast of cinnamon toast, bacon, and chocolate milk, dressed her in chocolate brown and blue (Auntie Steph should be so proud), with her pink Supergirl backpack stapped on. Jason and I walked her to her class, saw her BFF, Ciera, and her arch nemesis, Jacob.

Seeing her grow up is bitter sweet for me. I miss the little, chubby cheeked cherub she once was, but am fascinated with the pre-pubescent girl she's becoming. She teeters between being a young child and a girl that wants to test her boundaries and speak her mind.

I Have a "Ting" for Blondes

Heather Cunningham — Thu Jul 27 00:00:00 UTC 2006

I graduated high school in June 1992. As a gift, my cousin Regina offered to take me and my friend Denise to the beach house in Cantamar, Mexico. Of course we were game!

Our first night there we wound up in the bar down at the end of the street from our place. We drank and danced, drank some more, and drank some more. At one point in the night, Denise passed out at the bar. A man offered to take her home for us. But even in our drunken state we knew better than that. As she slept it off, Reg and I continued to drink and dance.

Denise woke from her stupor to find kamikaze shot glasses all around her and my cousin and me dancing with the bartender (Paco, which led to the name we gave the bar – Paco’s Taco Lounge). She claims that we were dancing on the table or the bar, but I think she may be exaggerating.

We were drunk and Denise was pretty sober by this point, wanting desperately to go home and sleep. We stumbled down the cobblestone streets and got to the house. Reg was attempting to locate the house keys in her jacket pocket and somehow lost her balance, falling to the ground, and proceeding to roll under the car part way. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I laughed at her. She didn’t actually hear it though because she was passed out. Denise and I tried to pull her out and pick her up, but it didn’t work. She was dead weight.

I took the initiative and went to go get help…back at the bar. It took me about an hour. There was a guy there named Christian that I’d been flirting with earlier in the evening. We had more drinks and exchanged some kisses and we’ll leave it at that. About an hour later I came home, with Christian. He helped us get Reg up from under the car and tucked her into bed. He left.

I woke up the next morning in the shower…hanging on to the detachable shower head…with it running. I don’t know how long I’d been in there, but the water was freezing cold when I came to. I wrapped up in a towel and crawled back to bed.

Later that morning Reg came into my room to make sure I was okay. She kept apologizing profusely for what had happened that night. No worries, I tell her. Glad to know that my 25 year old cousin still had it in her to go out and party. See, being 17 at the time, 25 seemed so old.

I eventually recovered the next day and practiced restraint that next evening. Unfortunately for Reg, it took her all day and night. Her fall and roll had left her with contusions on her knee and forehead, and I think that she has a permanent scar of this festive occasion. Denise was well recovered too, which led to her having a crazy afternoon and evening of pina coladas, which leads into a whole other story that I’ll let her tell.

I saw Christian again that night and he wasn’t as cute as he was the night before. His English was worse and my Spanish was suffering from being sober-ish. At one point in our conversation he told me he had a “ting” for blondes. “Excuse me?” I say. “I have a ‘ting’ for blondes” he says again. That pretty much ended things.

Disco Christmas

Heather Cunningham — Thu Jul 27 00:00:00 UTC 2006

I love my cousin Teresa, she’s cool, speaks her mind, is a Jill of all trades (I can only imagine what her resume looks like), and loves beer. We don’t see each other that often, not sure if it’s because of the distance, lifestyles, or what. But I wish I saw her more.

This last Christmas she had, on Christmas Day, a Disco Party at her house. She had a disco ball hanging in the middle of her living room, black lights, fluorescent posters, love beads, etc. We all dressed up and she served food that was en vogue in the 70’s – fondue, meatloaf, and cocktail weenies.

We had to take a “white elephant” gift for the gift exchange and that almost incited a riot. The point of the gift giving was that the gift could exchange hands 3 times, then it was off the market. There was a bottle of tequila that I think Uncle Carlos got first. Then either dad or Kel and Steph took it. Finally, Micaela wound up with it after some negotiations with her grandpa. I’m not sure who went home with it (somehow Steph and Kelly?), but I’m sure Uncle Carlos got to taste it.

We played another game (and I hope Kelly fills in the blanks on this one), but it required an enormous amount of imagination and skilled vocabulary. Kelly won! He stood and read the list of words he had come up with that had to do with Christmas, were made out of the word Christmas, or Christmas words that started with each letter in the alphabet…I don’t remember. He aroused some boo’s out of people, had to defend himself on a few, and for a moment there, I thought we were going to see a public stoning based on some he’d come up with. Kelly was a good sport about the whole thing, despite the public humiliation.

And we danced! Nothing but 70’s tunes, records, no less. Roberta Flack, Bee Gee’s, Gloria Gaynor, etc. We taught Micaela how to do the lawn mower, the sprinkler, and the hustle.

Disco Christmas will be remembered and talked about for years to come.

I Don't Want to Get Married

Heather Cunningham — Thu Jul 27 00:00:00 UTC 2006

I dated Mark in high school and we broke up shortly after I went away for college.

Then, November 1999, he showed up at my parent’s door. He was down from Sacramento visiting his family and thought he’d take the chance that I’d be there.

Under normal circumstances I would have been. But this particular Saturday one of my oldest friends, Denise, was getting nuptialed off in Palm Springs, and my parents and I went, leaving my Aunt at their house with my daughter. He left his phone number and I called the next day.

We seemed to pick up right where we’d left off years earlier and our relationship quickly evolved. We were seeing each other almost every weekend, each taking turns flying back and forth.

By March 2000, we were engaged and planning our wedding.

By September 2000, I was moving up to Sacramento.

Thanksgiving 2000, we drove down to celebrate with the family. Our relationship was strained to say the least. On the LONG drive home that Sunday, I suddenly blurted out, “I don’t want to get married”. There was a short moment of silence, then a “neither do I”.

It was as simple as that, the wedding was off. I stayed up there until January, then moved back down to Yucaipa.

I can’t really pinpoint what went wrong. There were promises made and broken by both of us. I think that I let things progress too quickly on the basis that I was a single mom and he was the first person I’d dated in that role. I had the mindset that I was never going to find someone; I mean who dates single moms? I was comfortable with him because we’d dated before, so there was that familiarity. It came down to a series of false hopes and feelings.

Now I chalk it off to a lesson learned. I know, through experience, that there are people that date single moms. I know that there’s no reason to force myself into feeling something that’s not there. I know that I have to be happy with myself and have self confidence before I can be in a relationship. I’ve learned that being single is okay. I know that being in a relationship is okay too. I’ve learned that it’s okay to tell someone I love them after one month of dating if I say it because I feel it, not because I think that’s what they want to hear.

Martha and the Debbies

Heather Cunningham — Thu Jul 27 00:00:00 UTC 2006

So, I have a thing for Neil Diamond. I’m not sure when it started. Perhaps it was seeing the Jazz Singer when I was like 7. Or it was my mom playing her records and my sister and I dancing around the house to them. Or the lure of the shiny, sequined shirts and that deep, raspy voice. At any rate, I love his music, always have, always will.

I’ve tried on numerous occasions to go and see him in concert, but it never would pan out. I was always too busy or it cost too much or there was no one to go with. I know it’s hard to believe, but there aren’t a whole lot of people that I associate with that like Neil. So, up until this last year, the closest I ever got to seeing him in concert was an A&E Special.

Finally, October 1, 2005 at the Staples Center, Neil Diamond in concert! As soon as Ticketmaster alerted me to this I jumped at the chance. I wasn’t doing anything that day, I had the money, and I had…people to go with? I quick called my mom up, “do you want to go see Neil Diamond on October 1?” You can always count on good old mom! “Sure”, she says. “Let me see if Debbie wants to go too.” So Debbie’s in, and so is the other Debi.

October 1, we pile into my mom’s car and take off toward LA, cranking Neil the entire way. We ended up eating dinner at this famous diner, but of course I can’t remember the name of it. All I know is that instead of serving bread when you sit down at the table, they give you a bowl of cole slaw – this is my type of place. And the menu is full of comfort food – I opt for the sirloin tips over egg noodles (my mouth waters just thinking about it). By the time we leave this fine establishment, there’s a line out the door and around the corner.

We head on over to the Staples Center, park, and patiently wait outside until they open the doors. I take an inventory of the people there, I’d guess the median age to be about 45. We joke about me being the young pup with the older ladies that night and I dub them “Martha and the Debbies”.

We file through the doors, up the escalator, and go grab some drinks. We find our seats and sit there and chit-chat about life. The conversation is sort of melancholy as Debi talks about her deceased husband and Debbie talks about her first husband’s affair and subsequent divorce from him, and the proposal and wedding to her new husband. I can’t remember what I talked about, nor my mom, I think we both just let her friends talk, vent, whatever you want to call it.

Neil should be on in 30 minutes, I go get us more drinks.

The lights dim, the music starts, and the spotlight hits the stage! There he is, in the flesh, the raspy voice echoes throughout the arena, and his costume doesn’t disappoint! There was such an energy there, people bobbing up and down to the music, singing at the top of their lungs. I panned the audience and see three relatively young guys sitting together, wearing black pants and Neil Diamond approved sequined shirts, and I think to myself that this is an amazing display of an entertainer that spans generations.

Titanic Contractions

Heather Cunningham — Wed Jul 26 00:00:00 UTC 2006

I worked for an accounting firm during my pregnancy. My due date was April 2. That day came and went, and I felt great, 9 months pregnant, but great. As the days passed, April 15 – tax day – loomed over my head. It was really quite funny because the entire office, while frantically trying to get tax returns finished, kept checking on me every hour, on the hour. Our office manager had pleaded with me to hold out until April 15th was over, then I was permitted to have the baby. She even threatened to use duct tape if she had to.

I made it through, much to everyone’s pleasurable surprise, and was scheduled to be induced on April 16th.

I got to the hospital, checked in, and got all set up in a small room. For some reason, Kaiser Hospital’s Labor and Delivery was very busy that day. They hooked me up to the pit drip and inserted some gel like substance to help soften my cervix. They also hooked me up to a machine that monitored my contractions. Apparently I was having contractions on my own, just didn’t know it.

I’m not sure how much time passed, maybe an hour, then I got the contraction of ALL contractions. There was a whirl of activity around me, my legs were thrown apart and all of me from the waist down was exposed to all the world (or at least the 3 nurses working on me, 1 man included), the gel was being wiped out, the pit drip was taken out, and another IV was put in to stop the contractions. After all had settled, an internal fetal monitor was taped onto Micaela’s head. Any humility I had left in me, pretty much dissipated at that point.

The rest of my labor was hard, tumultuous labor. I kept having these contractions that would be hard and long, with only seconds to recuperate before another would come along. The nurse told me they were tetanic contractions and being on Demerol, I kept thinking she said Titanic Contractions.

My heart rate dropped, as did Micaela’s. I had a wonderful nurse that was observing me. She had the on-call doctor look at the print out that was charting my contractions. I remember that he just sort of shrugged it off and wanted to keep a close eye on me, and I was thinking that I wanted to kick him in the balls and see if he could just shrug that off.

My nurse went over the doctor’s head and called in another, I believe his name is Dr. Rodney Johnson. He immediately got me into the OR. When they were giving me the epidural they needed to know how much I weighed, which after 6 hours of insane, exhaustive labor and a few shots of Demerol, how the hell should I know. My other favorite during this time was when the anesthesiologist was going to give me the epidural and said “now hold still”. Yeah, okay.

By 10:34 pm, Micaela was born. My mom was in the OR and her first comment was, “where the hell did she get that dark hair?” At this point I couldn’t even see her. But when I did, she was perfect. She was 20 inches long and 6 lbs 11.5 oz, with dark hair and lots of it. She had very fine, delicate features and perfectly drawn eyebrows. I was hooked on this little person.

My Baby Sister Mark Andrew

Heather Cunningham — Wed Jul 26 00:00:00 UTC 2006

I was 2 years old when my sister came into the world and I was excited. My parents had given her a name, Mark Andrew, assuming she would be a boy. Needless to say, all were surprised.

My earliest memory of this great event was my grandmother, Mor Mor, picking me up so I could look in the nursery window at her. It amazes me at how vivid this memory is.

Apparently, after my mom and sister cam home to the hospital, I would ask everyone that came to visit, “Do you want to see my baby sister Mark?”

Paging Dr. Kelly

Heather Cunningham — Wed Jul 26 00:00:00 UTC 2006

In the very early stages of my sister’s relationship with her now husband, Kelly achieved the very highest level of education, without even trying.

It was Thanksgiving 2001, Micaela was 2 ½ years old, and Auntie Steph was home for the holiday. It was at this time that Steph and Kelly weren’t seeing each other, but really were, but actually weren’t, and so on, and so forth. I remember them talking on the phone an awful lot for just being “friends”.

It was also at this time that my stubborn 2 year old had a slight cold, and, like most small children and some adults, didn’t want to take her medicine. And so enters, Dr. Kelly.

Stephanie, in her infinite wisdom, decided that it would be a good idea if we got Dr. Kelly on the phone and have Micaela talk with him. Steph placed the call and immediately started in with, “Dr. Kelly, this is Stephanie, Micaela’s here and doesn’t want to take her medicine…okay, I’ll let you talk to her.”

I’m not exactly sure what he said to her, maybe he reminded her that Christmas was right around the corner and that Santa only rewarded good kids that took their medicine. Whatever it was though, it was enough to make that head-strong little girl take her medicine without putting up a fight.

Dr. Kelly has been called on numerous times now throughout the years. We even went so far as to get him a t-shirt that says, “Trust Me, I’m a Doctor” for Christmas one year. The name has stuck and though Steph and Kelly are now married, Micaela would rather call him Dr. Kelly than Uncle Kelly.

Who Was that Masked Man?

Heather Cunningham — Wed Jul 26 00:00:00 UTC 2006

I was a freshman in college – a young freshman at that, only 17. My first college roommate, Nichole C., was dating a first year USD Law student, Scott O. He had invited us to the law department’s Annual Halloween Bash that year. I remember we’d spent a considerable amount of time making costumes – The Flintstones. I was going with one of Scott’s friends, whose name I can’t remember. What I can recall was that he was like 5’7” and maybe 140 lbs.

Well, turns out the guys didn’t like the costumes and the costumes didn’t turn out that great – neither of us were great seamstresses. So we went to Buffalo’s Breath and grabbed some wench costumes with very short skirts.

I was all bosom and legs that night.

We went to the party in La Mesa (I think) and participated in some underage drinking with our of age dates. After throwing back a few, I was walking over to get another and stepped in either a spilled drink or melted ice. I flew up in the air, landed on my butt, my skirt flew up, and my shoe slid across the room. Yes, I was humiliated!

Out of nowhere, a man in a mask appeared, The Phantom of the Opera to be exact. He reached out his hand to help me to my feet and in his left hand he had my shoe that had deserted me moments earlier. Once I was standing again, he bent down and put my shoe on.

As embarrassed as I was, I was more intrigued by the masked man. We exchanged flirtatious smiles and cracked a few jokes about how I really knew how to make an entrance. We wound up talking and dancing the whole night, eventually it ended with the exchange of phone numbers and a kiss goodnight.

His name was Paul and he wasn’t a law student. He’d been attending the party with his friend who went to the school. Turns out he was 27, going to be 28 in January. We ended up dating for over a year, remained friends, and on occasion, still exchange emails.

Master of Management - Human Resource Management

Heather Cunningham — Tue Jul 25 00:00:00 UTC 2006

So today I started my very first MM/HRM class. Each class runs 6 weeks, 45 units for the program. With any luck I'll be able to have 3 classes waived based on previously taken courses. If this happens, I should be done by December 2007!

Our Second Date

Heather Cunningham — Mon Jul 24 00:00:00 UTC 2006

So Jason and I had our second date or first official date on November 12, 2005. We went to one of my favorite restaurants in Redlands, a little place by the name of Citrone (yummm!) I hadn’t expected him to pay for the meal in its entirety, (as this place can be a little pricey, especially when you add on a bottle of wine) but he did…as a side note, I highly recommend their button mushrooms sautéed in truffle oil, white wine, and toasted garlic…

We had a wonderful time, talking as if we’d been together for years.

Later that evening, we met some of my girlfriends at a local “honky tonk” – Angel’s Roadhouse in Yucaipa. We had a beer or two, listened to the cover band, I danced with my friends, then we called it a night.

Now this place has been bought and sold numerous times, with many name changes. In having dinner with Jason’s P’s the other night, we found out that they had their “second” date at the same place, different name. Coincidence or something greater?

They just celebrated their 20th Anniversary!

In Memory of: Stacey Anne Gilliam, Lawanda Ada Moore, and Shevae Lana Robinson

Heather Cunningham — Mon Jul 17 00:00:00 UTC 2006

Stacey and I weren't close friends, though we'd played softball together and had been on the same team. She was a year ahead of me in high school and I would see her, with her boyfriend, often making out on campus or at the softball field. Because we weren't close, I cannot tell you any specifics that lead up to her murder, just the rumors that flew afterward. Some said she wanted to call things off with him, that he was becoming obsessed...and that may have been the case.

What I do know is that he (can't even remember his name) killed her, with a knife, cutting her throat. I remember my mom telling me and me bursting into tears. I remember my dad hearing the news (he had coached her) and going out and punching the playhouse/shed we had in our backyard. I remember thinking how unfair life seemed at that moment, that God had taken away a 16 year-old that had her entire life in front of her. I recall seeing my friends, my peers, and other familiar faces at her service and the song "It's so hard to say good-bye to yesterday..." playing.

Fast-forward to June 18, 1991, I had just finished up my junior year of high school, when two more young women I knew from school were murdered. I had Lawanda in Spanish classs the year before and had worked with her in the attendance office. She and Shevae were my mom's "kids" - i.e., they worked for her in the attendance office, they were among her favorites. Shevae's ex-boyfriend was responsible for their murders (in addition to a young man that was with them). They were shot execution style. Shevae left behind a small child.

These deaths were tragic, to say the least. I've often reflected back on the thoughts I had running through my mind at the initial moment I heard the news, to the funerals. What I've concluded is that death is always difficult to deal with, but more so when we aren't prepared. When our 90 year old grandmother passes on, we're just as devastated, but it's to be expected. We know that grandma lived a full life. Even when someone passes that has been sick, we've had time to try and mentally prepare ourselves. It's when people are taken suddenly, in my experience, that it hurts the most.

And as I write this, I prepare to bury my friend and co-worker tomorrow. Jimmy McCully was 40 years old and died from a staph infection. He was the kindest, most big-hearted man I've ever met and he will be missed.

I knew, like you know a good melon

Heather Cunningham — Mon Jul 17 00:00:00 UTC 2006

I received the following email on MySpace (which I sincerely promise not to use anymore) on October 23, 2005:

"I'm sure that you are bombarded with "blast from the past" e-mails. I thought I'd say hi anyway. I didn't get a chance to talk with you much at the reunion, but it was good to see you... uh, 3 years ago. Shit time flies. I'm out in the IE a lot since my family still lives here, so if you're up for getting a drink sometime, that would be fun.... or it might just be extremely awkward, but I'm willing to take the risk. haha. Hope to hear from you soon.

Jason Nicol

Oh, I hated Sideways and Closer too. I think that we are the only ones."

After a few more email exchanges and a 3+ hour phone conversation on October 30th, I was hooked. Within that first phone call I felt I knew more about him and disclosed more about myself, than I had to men I'd dated for months on end.

We had our first date November 12, 2005 and haven't spent a weekend apart since.

8 months later, he continues to amaze me and entertain me. The kid I'd known since junior high and had regarded as being introverted and shy, is now my best friend, my shoulder to cry on, and my own personal comedian to laugh with.