I hate Air Force moves!

Why is it military movers pick the most priceless things you have, monetarily or sentiment-wise , and pick those to destroy??

They:
- lost the key to our antique china cabinet and the stabilizing pegs to our antique matching dining room table. These things survived two world wars in Europe, but can't make it through an Air Force move.

- wrapped our $7,000 persian silk prayer rug in paper rather than the gun carton I asked them to, and then wrote on the paper with a permanent marker. Can you see where this is going? The ink only got on the back, thank goodness not the front, but it still lost THOUSANDS in value. Charlie bought that for $1200 overseas, so we're not really crazy enough to spend $7000 on a rug. But still, that's what it would cost to replace it here. The weave is crushed too and needs professional cleaning. They just slapped a high value baggage sticker on it and called it a day.

- crushed my one and only print of our Hounds of Heaven air war portrait. My squadron chipped in $250 each to have a portrait of our jet over Baghdad on March 19 2003 painted, and there were 250 prints made from it. That's it. EVER. And they must have gotten inside the expensive framing job I had done and grabbed the damn print and squeezed it like a dishtowel. I think I can have it repaired, but it will never be as good as new. I gave my other prints to people who couldn't afford to contribute and were part of the war effort, like my troops and the life support guys and an Army guy who was my personal savior as far as imagery goes -- so they're basically irreplaceable to me. Not that I would wish for those back or to negate an important acknowledgment of their efforts, but I am selfish enough to wish I had one for myself.

- smashed a milk glass child's tea set that I've had forever from my family. Again, 70-80 years old. They were wrapped so carefully in a special container...it looks like they played soccer with the damn thing.

- lost our ladder. There's a small note in writing on one of the kitchen boxes that says, "Alan almost stole the ladder -- Anthony and Tyler have it, bring it back at 3." What that means, I have no idea, but I have a strong suspicion my ladder got absorbed into their company assets while my stuff was in storage.

- lost our gucci cordless drill. Now if I had to guess, I would think that maybe, just maybe, the drill disappeared to the same place as the ladder. Possibility, hmm???

- spilled ketchup and mustard on our air mattress and its sheets. Again, I'm thinking someone needed an air mattress and decided to "borrow" mine. We're afraid to ask what the OTHER stains are.

Then the real kicker...I'm just beside myself. I opened the last box -- yay! -- from the move and found all the pictures we were missing. Miraculously, all of them were unscathed...or so I thought. The last one I unwrapped was my diploma from the Air Force Academy. You get a paper one, your commission on paper and a big wooden walnut plaque with an etched titanium plaque on top with all of your stuff on it. The bastards BROKE the graduation plaque.

Now it's not like I don't have my diploma...I do. It's not like I don't KNOW I went to the Air Force Academy, because BELIEVE me I do. But of all the damn memorabilia to break, why did it have to be that? The replacement is $220 for it and you better believe I am going to charge the Air Force every damn cent. I paid for that in the first place with much much more than money. But still...it's not MY plaque, that I got on my graduation day, while shaking the Vice President's hand with the Thunderbirds roaring overhead and a stadium full of people clapping and cheering in the background you know? It's not the plaque that I danced with over my head as my classmates and I hugged and cried when it was finally all over. It just won't be the same.

As hard as this move has been, this is the hardest blow of all. I would have rather been in some crappy little crackhole of an apt for six months and lost most of what I own than have my plaque damaged. Yeah, it's THAT big of a deal. Lesson learned here is to never let the Air Force pack another one of my treasured items ever. But it was a wooden and metal plaque...how do you crack that in half and leave a cheapo metal frame and glass right next to it intact? Never in a million years did I think they could wreck it.

I guess it's ironic that the Air Force giveth and the Air Force taketh away. But irony isn't much comfort right now.

The house is a wreck from the marathon unpacking session I just had, but Connor's still asleep upstairs so I can't start rattling around to fix it all yet. The poor kid has been so discombobulated and has really been acting out lately, so I'm thinking this final clean up process needs to go a bit slower so I can focus some attention on him. He's been unhappy with his diapers so has been sneaking away to poo and pee in hidden corners. Thank GOODNESS we didn't get new carpet in this place! We've been having serious talks with him about it and he's been having to help clean up his mess, but frankly we just need to get him on the way to potty training -- but first, we need all the crap cleared out of the bathroom, to find all his training pants, and actually be able to breathe in a clean house for a few days before embarking on such a life changing event for him. He's been having a tough time sleeping with all the light at night too, but I think the curtains should help block the light that was coming in around the blackout shades -- we just installed them last night and it did seem to help. This was the first time he wasn't flopping and twitching and whining in the night.

Well, I have about 12 loads of laundry from compiled clothes, dirty dusty linens and Charlie's uniforms I need to attack, junk strewn on every available surface and three bags of trash I need to run to the dump. I better hop to at some quiet tasks now before the boy terror is up and swinging from the chandelier. Shed a tear for me as you go about your day eh?