Is it possible to do your homework project too well?

How much do you know about sea snakes? Well, don't worry about it. There's no quiz at the end. Since sea snakes are pretty rare around the Sonoran desert, we had to Google them to learn more. Gunner had a model and report due and we were ready.

After getting some yellow and black clay at Michaels (unlike the flesh-toned variety at the Workman house), we made a model that looked amazingly like this. Pretty simple, really. A couple of glass beads for eyes, a flattened and dotted tail and done. Glued it to some foam core board covered in wave design paper and finished.

Must've been a pretty good job because the next morning the business end of the snake was removed cleanly from the body. Thank you, Heidi, for saving us from a highly dangerous and toxic snake model but that was MY HOMEWORK! Uh, Mr. Ward, my cat thought it was real, so it must've been good, right?

It was turned in with some repairs, but definitely worse for the wear. P.S. Gunner would like everyone to know that sea snakes are NOT eels, as a few of his classmates would like you to erroneously believe. He has now corrected their youthful mistake.

There will be more photos of actual Pedersens and their activities soon. The camera cord has been located.

H-U-A!

I don't know why, but I always liked it when a soldier shouted a good "H-U-A!" Pilots (including Chris) aren't as apt to shout one out so it isn't something I've heard often. Maybe it's because I can admire someone who can put their commitment "out there" so definitively. A good "H-U-A!" has to be strong. You can't give a wimpy "h-u-a." Or a quiet one. It has to come from deep within and be loud. And you have to mean it. It's the Army/Marine version of "Amen!"

Heard!
Understood!
Acknowledged!

Or

Let it be so!

Kind of the same thing.

I won't be giving a "HUA" in services any time soon, so don't worry Fr. James. But sometimes I'd like to. I know by standing, singing and praying together we are giving the Orthodox version of a HUA, but sometimes I'd like to just shout out. Aren't you all glad I have self control?!

Here's a photo of our soldier taken today, when they learned to manage a check point. With Iraqi actors playing their parts. It's getting a lot more real now. Chris will not be manning check points in Iraq, but they all need to know how, just in case. Like learning how to survive a Humvee rollover or give an IV to a buddy. It's all good to know.

I'd stop, wouldn't you?!

The American Flag Shoulder Patch

One of our younger soldiers was talking with his equally young soldier friends and couldn't find the answer to his question. So, he decided to seek counsel from one of the old pilots. "On our uniform, why does the American Flag face the wrong way?" he asked.

Hmm, thought the old, make that older, pilot to himself, that's a good one. It appears to be backwards to the traditional way that usually has the stars on the left side. But, because he had been around so long and could think on his feet, he came up with an answer. "First of all, the right shoulder of our uniform is reserved for combat patches. Since all of America is at war, the Global War on Terrorism, we wear the American Flag on that shoulder. Second, in battle the flag bearer would carry the Stars and Stripes alongside the Commander for all the unit soldiers to see and follow regardless of the chaos of the battle. As the flag bearer charged forward, the stars would preceed the stripes because that's the way the flag was attached to the flag staff. Our flag charges forward regardless of which way we look at it, right?"

"Makes sense. Thank you," said the soldier.

"You're welcome young grasshopper," said the sage, veteran aviator.

Now you know, too.

In honor of all Veteran's and their supporting families and friends, HAPPY VETERAN'S DAY.


Chief Warrant Officer 3 Chris Pedersen

Safety Tips for Exercising

As well as being a Blackhawk helicopter pilot, I'm the A Company "Aviation Safety Officer." What it really means is I'm a mother hen & a nag to all my fellow A Co. soldiers to make sure they do everything with safety in mind.

Frequently in the evening (22 times out of 35 days here) I go for "power walks" with the self-imposed goal of always walking further than I did the previous time. My iPhone has been a great diversion allowing me to get a free "App" (Application) called iTreadmill, which estimates distance, time, pace, calories, and keeps a historical record. Who knows if it's right, but it's in the general vicinity. Lately, I've been adding pushups & situps starting with 10 of each (remember, start small) & adding 5 every time. Oh, I forgot to tell you. With my schedule, I can only exercise at night. Things got a lot darker when Oklahoma went to daylight savings time, let me tell you! On a few walks, I've gone out in a pouring rain, encountered an angry mother racoon and her youngster, and almost stepped on a skunk! Whew. Don't know who was more scared... Yes I do. It was me!

Well, tonight wasn't as much fun as those other times, but it was interesting. Altogether, I walked briskly for 2.57 miles. At the half-way point (mile 1.25) by a canon in front of Fort Sill HQ, I did 50 pushups and 50 situps, then I started "cruising" back home.Yeh, I was moving briskly and in the groove. Then, things got weird. For part of my walk, I divert through the "Colonel's neighborhood", with big, historic homes around the old Fort Sill quadrangle. I'm sure that's not where soldiers should be doing their PT, so I try to admire the architecture and get through there undetected. But tonight, I saw a car with it's interior dome light on. I'm certain the battery would be dead by the morning if it stayed that way. I tried to ignore it and quickly get out of the AO (Area of Operations), but my conscience wouldn't let me. So, I cautiously approached the residence, rang the doorbell, and waited. Out came a distinguished gentleman with a gray flat-top haircut. "I'm sorry for bothering you, sir, but a dome light is on in one of your cars out front," I said. "Well, thank you," spoke the distinguished Colonel. Before he could ask me what I was doing in HIS neighborhood, I disappeared into the dark as quickly as I could. Less than 200 feet later, you guesssed it. Another car with it's dome light on. Enough! I zipped past it. Tough. Too many forgetful Colonels on this street!

Just after that, a car pulled up next to me. "Excuse me, sir," asked a woman driver. "Do you know the way to Sheridan Street? I've been driving around the neighborhood for quite a while, and I'm lost." Well, iPhone to the rescue! I pulled up the map of Fort Sill and showed it to her. "Feel free to study it for a while," I offered. "This is how you expand the picture if you need to," I explained next. So she studied it, expanded it, thanked me, drove off, and promptly turned down the wrong street! Still lost. That good deed went bad quickly! Luckily, a few minutes later her car emerged from the neighborhood up ahead and back on the right street. Okay, I'll call that a successful save.

Then, a good friend, (Major) Pat O'Toole texted me, "So do u guys get any free time for Monday night football?" he inquired. I was still walking alongside a poorly lit, winding road, and 3/4 of a mile from my barracks. Another diversion. Okay, let's chat. Pat's always entertaining. Type, type, type, text, text, text. Do you know, if you stare at a lit iPhone and try to text and walk at the same time, you loose all your night vision? Pilots learn and study such topics. Oops, the Safety Officer wandered off the dimly lit path and almost walked into a street sign! No, not once but two times!! Wouldn't that make an interesting accident report? Okay, I learned my lesson. I stopped under a lamp post and finished texting Pat.

These "power walks" are getting to be great, little adventures... except for the skunk. Wouldn't call that one "great." Anyone else having great, little adventures? Hope so.

Love, Chris/Poppy.

Was this what you saw, Clay?

Clay. Did your hawk look at you like this?

Chris' Flight Consultants, Inc.

For Gunner

By now, most of our friends know that "Gunner" is really just our son's nickname. Fourteen and a half years ago, I flew Apache helicopters and was a company commander. As the front seater of the tandem two-seater, my primary duties included working the radios and directing target attacks for the company. That crewmember was called a "Copilot/Gunner." Linda was pregnant at the time and while cradling the growing bulge in her belly proclaimed, "I have my own front seater, my own Gunner." Great, I thought. We'll call him Gunner. "No, that sounds too violent," I was informed. "Let's name him Craig" after the best man at our wedding. Well, of course, his real given name became Craig, but as Lauren has so aptly pointed out, "Mommy, everyone calls him 'Gunner' so that's what he'll be known as."

Well exactly one month ago today, imagine my surprise when we pulled into Fort Sill. There right in front of me at the east entrance, was a building with a large sign out front, "Gunner's Inn." Apparently, the artillery soldiers that are learning their trade here are called "Gunner". Coincidentaly, within our Aviation community the side door gunners are also called "Gunners". What I mean is they are CALLED "Gunner!" As in "GUNNER, TARGET! 10 O'CLOCK, 300 METERS!" (Which, of course, implies take care of things, Gunner! And they do very well, thank you.)

So here's your picture, Gunner. While I'm away on this deployment could you please do me a favor? "GUNNER, TAKE CARE OF THINGS!" (such as your mother, sister, and school work). Love you, buddy.

P.S. Later, I'll write how Lauren got her name. It's a good story.

Happy one monthiversary!

The kids and I planned to celebrate each month of Chris' deployment with something special, something like a fun dinner out, a hike, early morning bird-watching, something unusal. Gunner and I were going to be at the church retreat at St. Paisius monastery this weekend and Lauren was going to be taking the SAT and staying with Tara and Natalie for the weekend. Not really what I had in mind as a family celebration, but definitely not things we do very often. Except Lauren has the flu. So, we all stayed home, watched Home Alone and ate whatever sounded good. Except I burned Gunner's pizza. Lauren barely touched her chicken noodle soup. Now the cats are sick, too. At least we were able to talk to Chris. You know, this is what makes celebrations like this memorable. And, we can only go up from here!