Alice Springs

Mum was just telling me in a letter (she sends snail mail, but I can e-mail her through a system called PRESTO; it's a machine that prints out e-mails) that her dad was once proclaimed "Captain of the Alice Springs Navy" by the troops during WWII there in Alice Springs.
He was a vaudevillian at that time and was entertaining Aussie and American troops there at Alice Springs. Alice Springs is home to an important radar station apparently.
My grandfather was a mean drunk who treated mom badly. She tells little sad tales about how he would force her to drink cod liver oil when she was sick (that would MAKE me sick if I wasn't already) and he'd pour it down her throat, he'd rape her, beat on her, make her feel like absolute dirt.
Grandad, who I never met (or is it whom?), got himself into a few movies over there in Oz before he got too old. He died of throat cancer, I remember my mom showing me the obit from an Aussie paper when I was a kid.
I did get to meet my grandma, she came over to America when I was pretty small and brought me this stuffed Koala bear made out of Kangaroo hide. I loved it more than anything; it was my end-all be-all until one of my mom's great danes ATE it.
*sigh*
Today when I got to work I had to run back out to Wal-Mart for tomatos, rye bread and chips for the diner. I got there, parked near the door, and went in to shop.
When I came out, I spied my truck all the way across the parking lot. At the furthest reaches of the tarmac.
And it was one of those .... you know.... "Am I having an LSD flashback? Seriously, this cannot be..."
My truck was locked. There was no damage to it. My first thought was it was a joke. Or someone saw my rainbow sticker on the back and felt mean.
When I got in I realized I'd left it in neutral. It must have started rolling. Someone pushed it all the way to the other side of the lot where it was flat and the truck would be safe.
It didn't, apparently, hit anything when it started rolling. Not a scratch on it.
I had my AA book sitting on the front seat. I wonder if it was one of us who helped. At any rate, it was hard to go back to work after that. I felt like I'd escaped a real nightmare of a morning due to a good samaritan or however many it took to move my truck.
No it didn't roll over there... it couldn't have. I've been extremely grateful to the universe all damn day.
I've been contemplating Carter's email. He says he would move back to Richmond if I did. I'm sort of thinking about it with some real seriousness.
I miss Theater IV; a lot. I have blood sweat and tears invested in that theater and they still know me and remember me and tell tales about me.
Like the night we had 'Ain't Misbehavin' opening night and there was a thunderstorm and one of the vent covers blew off the roof and Phil and I had to crawl up there and get it back on and anchor it with something, I forget how we did it. or maybe we covered it with a tarp. Anyhow it was really scary and we were talking about how much we loved that theater.
I met Carol at Theater IV. My heart is in that building. I must have always known I would return someday and I hope I do.
Anyhow... Richard is there too. In Richmond. So is the James River, and Dogwood Dell, and Bell Island... and Doctor Jones!
and of course the VCU Sculpture studio.
And the William Byrd Hotel which is now an old folks home. Carter used to live there when it was apartments.
You know, Richmond might be my next stop.
Carter is in New Orleans... and is talking of meeting up in Montgomery. Talking to Carter brings back a lot of memories I'd forgotten.
Like the time Carter and I were invited to an orgy, our first, and we both crawled into beds, at opposite ends of the room, and watched , peeking out from under covers, saying "Tell me when it's over".
HA!
***
Now I'm watching Dexter. Season 2, Disc 3.
I can't believe how much I get into that show. I rarely get into shows that much. I got into Six Feet Under that way; but only until it started getting really stupid.
I wish Netflix would send them all at once so I could veg out for an entire day watching Dexter. That's way better than getting drunk.
Which is not an option if I hope to stay off the streets.