The Winner Is: Number 7!!!

Thanks to Sheila, Mother Of Blue, I did not have to spend tons of time cutting up paper. The random generator is truly a modern marvel. After one quick click, there it was: Number 7. Lucky number, that!

The winner of my bracelet giveaway is none other than Deabusamor whose blog is "Overstimulated Undercaffeinated." I do not know this woman, but she's got "amor" in her name and because of that, I like her. I like her a LAWGHT.

This was Dea's comment:

Deabusamor said...

I think I'd frame it if I got the bag with teeth marks, along with a picture of the Somewhere Joe in action!

Please enter me in your giveaway!

Thanks for the giggles,
Dea

Listed as a student and from Hesperia, California, Ms. Deabusamor says in her profile:

"Art has always been important to me but only recently did I discover that tactile art -- specifically sculpture and sewing -- was a required daily dose for my sanity. I work primarily in Polymer Clay though I also dabble in wire-wrapping, sewing, digital painting and various other mediums. (Craft ADD!) Most of my designs are for sale at my Etsy Shop (http://deabusamor.etsy.com) and I welcome custom orders."

Please fellow bloggers, do yourselves a favor and go see what she can do. She can do beauty of the first order. Trust me. Go with me on this one.

Follow now three Presentation Poses. Poses both Valentinian and Gawpoean, all three of which are performed in my now famous red sweatshirt, fruitful boon of a dumpster dive. (The Russian judge only gave me a four, but I got straight 9s from the rest, so it's all good.)

Pose The First:
The teeth which indent for the purpose of creating a record. This, if you will, is my seal. A biting down to symbolize, Ms. Deabusamor, your own mastications of life's beauties, not the least of which was how we came to meet. One World. One Heart. One bite.




Pose The Second:
Holding out this little morsel of gift to you, as though a consecrated host, the which is so lovingly embodied in our own host, Ms. Lisaoceandreamer. I hold this gift in my hands and therein consecrate the friendship that relates us, the friendship that erases any strangeness that stood between us and the hundreds of touchings that all participants left in the way of comments on each others' pages.




Pose The Third:
You, Oh Deabusamor, were randomly generated. Face it. Fate is at times a luck. You were number seven. Lucky number seven out of a possible 211 entrants. (Okay, a few less than that because I had to rule out some duplicates as well as Somewhere Joe who disqualified himself due to his maniacal humility.) I bow down my head, therefore, and close my eyes. I pray you into favor with your life, with your own gifts from which flow wonderful creations of your own hands. No, I did not make the Giveaway bracelet. But Monica did. And I gladly bequeath to you as her ambassador this small token of my own One Heart on this Saint Valentine's Day. I pray love into the package. And the dried shrimp themselves rejoice, longing for your taking them onto your tongue as a communion. (But you don't have to if you don't want to.) Just send me your address, Dea, and you will surely score that picture of the Somewhere Joe Jocular Microwave Move to go along with the bracelet and shrimp and bean.



Finally, a word about the painting which I have chosen to back my ground. It is a creation of Rick Bartow. Rick is a longtime friend. A musician. A father. A husband. A Vietnam veteran. A Native American. A loving man. Last year I bought this painting. Rick had offered it as a way to help the family of other friends whose 12 year old son, Keegan was battling cancer. Rick donated the price of the painting to the family. Keegan and I shared birthdays. May we some day share the same day of passing. I would like that. I only this week got the painting framed. I love how it turned out, floated and simply bordered, as is your art, Dea; as also ought we strive to live our time here: Floated, and simply bordered.

***UPDATE 021508 @ Twenty-Zero-Seven Hours***
I was a bit too vague. And I do apologize. Keegan did not survive the cancer. And I am not certain he made it to his 13th, my 53rd birthday. Yes. Very, very sad.

Keegan flying my airplane:




Literally "out of the blue," after some minutes of flying the airplane and keeping the craft well along its path of straight and level flight, Keegan turned to me and spoke these words through the headsets: "Thank you."

So I turn now to you, Lisa. And I utter the same: THANK YOU.