This preeminent Houston political power couple is in the middle of a slow-motion divorce proceeding, possibly because their business affairs are impossible to untangle. Between them they represent just about anything that could be considered establishment in Houston. Sue raised money for mayor Bob Lanier, handles incumbent Lee Brown's finances, and lobbies for energy giant Enron. Dave, a former chief of staff for County Judge Jon Lindsay and mayor Lanier, helped martial the stadium and arena forces in recent victorious referenda, and represents the Houston Astros and the new Houston Texans professional football team. His most innovative position: domestic relations adviser to Lanier's adopted daughter, Courtney Lanier, when she was drawn into a nasty divorce proceeding between hubbie-to-be, Chris Sarofim, and his ex-wife, Valerie. Naturally, Courtney came out of it all smelling like a rose and worth multimillions.

To his neighbors and friends, Andrew Fastow was a good-looking young business executive with an art-loving wife and young children. But inside a corporation chock-full of self-proclaimed piranhas competing to chew the most lucrative deals out of customer hides, Chief Financial Officer Andy prided himself on being the biggest and baddest. "We are Enron and we will tear your face off," he once joked to colleagues. His breathtakingly intricate accounting creations, including one named after his tony Southampton neighborhood, pumped up the company with billions of dollars of nonexistent profits, while siphoning off all-too-real millions to himself and a web of favored colleagues. Fastow made his enterprise a family affair, with wife and fellow Enron employee Lea involved in the shady bookkeeping. His two children were even used as conduits for kickbacks, according to subordinate Michael Kopper, who pleaded out with the feds. Fastow now faces nearly 100 felony counts ranging from conspiracy to money laundering, with a possible sentence of more than 1,000 years. The feds filed six counts of tax evasion on Lea. In typical Enron style, when Andy went bad, he did it on a scale larger than life.

There's something about walking into a polling place that just makes you feel like a good citizen. There you are, doing your best to select from among the candidates, acting informed even if you really aren't. So what better place to perform such a civic duty than a schoolhouse, especially such a classic, old-fashioned-looking one as Edgar Allan Poe Elementary? Tucked inside the lovely Museum District, this Philip Ewald-designed school exudes such a patriotic vibe you feel like saluting when you walk in the front door. Sure, it's named after an alcoholic writer, not some founding father. But when you toss in the delicious baked goods and coffee on sale every Election Day, the name doesn't much matter.

Maybe these are just the moments that downtown finally arrives. Party on the Plaza is in full swing. So is its dynamic corner of the central city, with Bayou Place beckoning the masses across the street. And there, on the magnificent grounds that serve as the front entrance to the Wortham Theater Center, are scores of motorcycles at rest in neatly lined rows. The bikers rumble in to party at the plaza, and what better place to park 'em than on off-nights at the Wortham. All the nightlife available isn't going to be enough if downtown can't loosen up a little. On these evenings, it shows off its finest colors: Electra Glides in blue.

If you're looking for a quiet, peaceful place to take a walk and snap a few pics, you can't do much better than Glenwood Cemetery. The final resting place for some of Houston's most famous names, including billionaire Howard Hughes, Glenwood boasts a collection of gorgeous monuments scattered over its manicured hills (yes, there are hills in Houston). Zoom in on one of the sculptures of forlorn angels, or focus your wide-angle lens on the skyline looming over the rows of grave markers. Let your creativity guide you. Just be sure to pack plenty of film.

This hyper-congenial county tax assessor-collector has burnished his image with consumer-oriented reforms, while at the same time utilizing the office as an attack arm of the local GOP. Bettencourt has churned out studies criticizing Mayor Lee Brown's tax policies, not so coincidentally the identical position as his political mentor, Harris County Republican Party chair Gary Polland. He's also become a major resource for the party in the current redistricting battle to keep the county Commissioners Court dominated by Republicans through 2010. His weakest performance came in a halfhearted effort to defeat the second referendum to build a downtown basketball arena. Apparently under pressure from downtown interests, Bettencourt conveniently muted his opposition as the arena proposition easily won approval. Don't be surprised if somewhere down the road, he and this year's Best Democrat, Eric Andell, meet head-on in a contest for the county judgeship currently held by Robert Eckels.

Who'da thunk it? This modest Montrose favorite has the ass-kickingest soundtrack around. You can sniff the ripe mangos to Blood Sweat & Tears, grab a six-pack of Sierra Nevada while jamming to Stevie Wonder, and squeeze the Charmin while gettin' your Beatles on. And there's no Muzak in this joint -- oh, no -- just like the Coke you're buying, it's the real thing, baby. We've also heard the Pretenders, Pulp Fiction's "Jungle Boogie," Joe Walsh's "Life's Been Good to Me So Far" and the original "Goin' to a Go-Go" while crossing those items off our list. Sometimes we stop in just to shake our groove thing.

This 60-year-old civil rights and anti-apartheid activist-turned-elected official continues to amaze observers with her energy, grassroots common sense and a service ethic reflected in her diverse young staff. Her district is an ethnic and cultural rainbow stretching from black precincts in Sunnyside to heavily gay Montrose, and Edwards has made everybody feel at home in her office. In contrast to the political pretensions of predecessor Jew Don Boney, Edwards has put the down-home back into District D while winning over colleagues with a no-nonsense, respectful presence at the council table. Other councilmembers have made like political jumping beans, seeking new positions before their current seats are even warm. Not Edwards, who says she wants to stay in her district till retirement while training a new generation to step into her shoes. If she finds even one like her, the city will count itself lucky.

'Twas the endlessly quotable Townes Van Zandt who sang the line "No prettier sight than looking back on a town you left behind," and even if that judgment did arrive in a song called, paradoxically, "I'll Be Here in the Morning," the sentiment stands. Your life was waterlogged in the great backwash of '01, the temperature's 104 in your hat, and the West Nile virus is queued up to fill the void left by yellow fever epidemics of yore. Even the staunchest Houston-boosters and stick-it-outers deserve a break every now and then. Get in the car, roll down the windows, crank up the a/c, and head to Austin, for God's sake. The road ahead may be bleak for miles, but that receding skyline in the rearview is an awfully pretty sight.

When tempers flared last summer over an ad hoc day-labor site near Kingwood, one man stepped in to help broker talks between the immigrant workers, aggrieved business owners upset about the massing of men on their property, and Montgomery County sheriff's officials. That man was Benito Juárez, then-coordinator for the Houston Immigration and Refugee Coalition. His efforts contributed toward changing the tone from recrimination to one of constructive problem solving. For years, Juárez has been a fixture at rallies for the rights of immigrants and refugees. The 39-year-old Guatemala native might be found picketing the offices of the INS or fronting marches in Austin and Dallas. He played a key role in getting foreign-born people, including undocumented ones, to participate in the 2000 Census, helping to produce the largest response ever among Houston's immigrant community. This year, Juárez was named outreach specialist for Lee Brown's newly created Mayor's Office of Immigrant & Refugee Affairs. While the position may lower his profile at protests and rallies, Juárez welcomes the potential for greater access to local, state and national officials. "My commitment is for advancing the struggle for the respect of the rights of immigrants and refugees," the soft-spoken Juárez says. "I'm doing it in a different way, but the commitment is the same."