He looked up at me with evil intent and made ready as if to take a huge chunk out of my best suede boots.

"OK," I promised backing off and hiding behind a lamp post "you are in, be sure to let the Doggy community know though."

I have to admit he has a point and looks much better dressed than my dates over the past few weeks.

Winter in New York and Doggy Couture has taken over the city.

Women on Doggy Dates have really come a long way in smartening up thier dates. It is so tough to get your guy to look good, if he simply has no style most women give up quickly rather than have their date embaress them in front of their friends with a geeky clueless outfit. However Dogs wear what they are told, they are far more pliable in that sense and you can make a statement about how cool you are by the coolness of your dog.

I was walking around the east village and this stripy mut stopped me in my tracks.

"Hey, SP, he barked, " what is going on in your blog these days, all that boring stuff about the Sandman and LA art show which no one cares about and not a whit about the NY Doggy Scene which the whole doggy community worldwide was following and enjoying and then nothing, you dropped us like a hot potato, well thanks. If you check your blog counter ( something I try to limit myself to only 20 checks per day) you will see the number has plummeted as we dogs on principle stopped reading so put us back in sooner rather than later unless you want your readership to drop in half. I mean look at this trendy coat, half the reason I got it was I was hoping to be on the blog so put me on it or else I will bite your suede boots and leave a toothmark on them."

What a terrible viscous threatening dog, of course I had to oblige with a quick winter doggy fashion piece.
'

When the sun rose the next morning I dashed down to my laps in my favorite pool.
The Sandman simply reduced to a Bittersweet memory, well make that Bitter actually.

That night the pool at Trader Vics in the Beverly Hilton was lit up in soothing colors of orange and red and a giant screen showed surfers enjoying themselves hurtling over giant waves. The air was crisp. It finally stopped raining. Yes things were looking up.

Right in front of me was a hideous picture of a skull with a message emboldened all over it.

YOU WANT TO START OVER

That's it, that's my message, but everyone has been telling me that for weeks. I know that already. That sucks. That is almost as much of a cop out as my peace on earth message was at Santacon when I saved the Home Depot Elves from their dreadful job selling Dyson Hoover bags, fortunately for me everyone loved it or seemed to.

Ah well. I guess I had better start over as the Skull suggests. It is spring soon. Everyone finds love in the spring time even me. Valentines Day fast approaches I suppose if I start over right now I may be over the Sandman completely by then. Not I may be, I WILL be, that's better SP. More positive attitude, think The Secret. If you think it you make it. I feel better now. That was a great message from the Skull. Sandman you are officially History. Every reader on this here blog is a witness to that last statement.

Sandman don't even bother trying to find me, as I don't want you any more. Well, maybe a tad still but the feelings are vanishing fast. Aren't they? Course they are, everyone keeps telling me how awful he is and was, even all the Sculptures at the LA art show dished him, I mean what more evidence does a girl need. None. I feel much better now, kind of empty but better, upwards and onwards. NEXT. I am ready to Start Over, to do as the Skull ordained. No time like the present etc etc.

So armed with my message I left the LA art show ready to make a new start. To do what I wasn't sure, probably start with some kind of a new adventure, it is always the way with me it seems. As the rain poured down in sheets over LA I sauntered off with a smile on my face at last.

"SP over there to the right. The skull, read it." whispered Icarus the winged sculpture trying to help me in my hour of need.

I was walking towards where I think the Daughter Sculpture pointed for my message when I heard some squabbling going on coming from the direction of the Mother and Daughter with the Matching Fancy Coats, Super Long Feet and Toys Sculpture Set, a mere $20,000 for the pair.

"Amy, do you think I didn't hear you asking the SP to buy you on your own own and leave me behind. How could you! After all I have done for you, fixing that orange hair do of yours every day for all these years, this is the thanks I get. Well I think it is totally shameful and I will be having words with your father tonight about your lack of loyalty. We are a Sculpture Set, a Pair, we do not separate, got it? You should be ashamed of yourself." scolded the Mother Sculpture.

"But we don't have a dad, it is you and me and the Man who made us and I don't think he qualifies as a dad. Anyway I heard the hoity toity snooty lady in the black trouser suit who runs this stand saying we could be separated so there.It is each sculpture for herself as far as I am concerned. SP come back, I hear you have a great art collection, it will be complete once you add me. SP don't walk away. Rescue me. " Amy begged, whilst giving her mum a sly side kick with her long black shoe.

"Ouch! Watch it, you will topple me over, you little brat. You are an ungrateful shameless hussy excuse hardly worthy of the term art. Stand away from me, anyone with any sense can see I am the masterpiece sculpture the Real Art piece and you are just the afterthought. If anyone gets bought first Missy it will be me." The Mother said whilst trying to regain her balance without anyone noticing.

Oh Oh look what I started. The next minute I looked around to see the Mother and Daughter piece angrily scowling at each other and then the a second later they were totally frozen again as if nothing had happened.

You see even sculptures have family arguements and have to deal with smothering, controlling parents who do not allow them to rest in their own "unstructured being" as Winicott puts it without constant intrusion or without threatening abandonment. This poor Amy is probably damaged for life now. Some helpful "grievance statements" as John Wellwood suggests in his book I happen to be reading called"Perfect Love , Imperfect Relationships", may be appropriate for Amy and may help her get rid of her anger towards her Mother. How about....

1. "You want to control me."
2. " You don't accept me unless I fit into your agenda.
3. "You make me wrong for what I need."
4. "You don't recognize my goodness."
5. "You want to do me in."

Perhaps wee Amy should book some sessions with Wellwood to help her heal.

Anyway where is my message I only have five minutes left to find it now before the art show closes...

"It is really a simple and obvious message that all of us, your friends too have been saying since you came back from the Bahamas. Now if you could just read your message I could get back to my toy. Would you like to buy me, by the way, and take me home, I only cost $5000 and as it is the last day and the last fifteen minutes of the show you could probably have me for $4500. I look great in any living room or bedroom and I am way cheaper than my mum but just as nice.Don't let her hear me saying that but I know you like bargains and I am one, she up there is $15,000, way overpriced."

Cripes, it must be hard to be a sculpture when everyone just looks at you for a second and then walks past without buying you, constant rejection, no wonder some of them look a but glum, I couldn't take it myself. I hate it when I go to a party and no one wants to take ME home and I have that dreaded taxi ride home alone.

Think how all these poor art pieces feel standing tall and proud, trying to look like the puppy in a pet shop with big sad eyes calling us"Buy me, buy me, pick me, pick me, you will love me, I will make your life better, I promise. When your friends see me they will think you have the most marvelous taste and you are the most refined cultured person they know." Then you just ignore them, it must be heart breaking for them. You must need a pretty tough skin to be an art piece, that is for sure.

"Well, I will think seriously about it in the last fifteen minutes of the show in the meantime would you mind pointing me to my message I can not seem to find it anywhere." I replied politely keeping a firm grip on my checkbook in case I wavered at her sad plight.

After one more hour of examining every art piece, turning them upside down to see if a message was written for me anywhere and on top of that hearing what every female art sculpture had to say about the Sandman and believe me, none of it was good, one of the art pieces who was busy amusing herself with a ball of string,as it gets boring standing around for days and days especially if no one buys you and takes you home, whispered in an exasperated tone, "Over there, over there. You can't miss it you dope, a message as clear as day."

"Tell him to talk a walk" said the Feet Sculpture in the corner of one of the stands.

"I would if I could find him" I replied, thinking to myself, I can't believe anyone would want to buy this gruesome piece but the lady running the stand said it represents journeys and that was red clay on the feet and not blood and she had a pair in the living room and loved it.

Was this my message?

This sexy naked sculpture lady on the other hand had about five red dots next to her name, I wonder why.

"You can't all surely still be talking about Sandman, what is wrong with you gals. He was terrible in bed, we all know that."

If that was an invitation, she can think again, she looked a but glum herself, maybe the Sandman had dated and dumped her too or perhaps it was the fact that it was the end of the last day and she had not one red sticker next to her, going home alone it seems and we all know how that feels.

"Did you ever consider becoming gay as you do not seem to have much luck with men, Sandmen or even dogs, maybe you should look further afield, just a thought," said a sculpture lady who was wrapped up in a grey anarok as it was raining that day.

"We remember what you went through with him, Felt Lady, look you are a famous art exhibit now, you have moved on to bigger and better things." The twins paper bag sculpture piece piped in.

Gosh it seems that the jolly old Sandman has been round the block a bit and left a trial of broken hearts all over the place. Word travels fast and this chap well popular he is not.

" I went out with the Sandman myself, I am the Brown and White Felt Lady , like you he wooed me and wined and dined and dumped me. I happened to be reading your blog, as everyone in the world does, and I saw a photo of that scumbag. I can not believe a) he is up to his old tricks and b) you of all people fell for it. SP you can do so much better. The Sandman went for me as he thought we looked good together. He was made of sand I am made of felt but really when we made out it was terribly itchy and all of his sand got stuck in my felt , little did I know that that was the least of our problems. Please stop brooding as being single is better than being sandy."

Well she did have a point there.

But when I got there I got a little surprise, the art exhibits seemed to rescue me. I was walking around minding my own business when this young lady art piece, Sylvia, in the gold hat stopped me.

"Hey you look familiar, are you the SP? The one that had the five minute botched up affair with Sammy the Sandman, we heard about that, what a mess, how are you doing, you look a bit weepy still. Move on, he is not worth it. Take a good luck at this art show, you came here for a reason, there is a message for you buried in the art, you just have to find it."

Well she may only be a sculpture but she did have some very good advice. I started walking around the show with a new focus, what was the message and where was it hidden.

Enough of this freezing cold. on the balcony of the Beverley Hilton in LA last weekend, I decided it was time to get back to the things I love - art and culture. And to get my mind off the thing I love ( you know who the Sandman) well at least I have only mentioned him a few times in this recent blog, I took myself ot the LA art fair in Santa Monica.

Hansel and Gretel spoke to me at the interval. They said I was way off about the witch and just because she was a bit of a busy body and ran an efficient kitchen she was not in any way supposed to resemble Hillary C.

Over drinks at the interval Brett and I both agreed that the witch had ever so slight a resemblance to Hillary Clinton and questioned whether this was a subtle republican message.

Wee Mummykins would love a chandalier like this for the McCastle back in Scotland so I asked the usher if they were considering putting it into the January sales. Sadly they said it was not something they had considered right at the minute, but with the global economy in the state it is, she should submit an offer.