Although she's technically not a whistle-blower, Enron executive Sherron Watkins's memo to Ken Lay warning him of the coming catastrophe last fall made her the Cassandra of the biggest business scandal ever to hit the city. Watkins managed to stay on the Enron payroll while becoming a national hero through appearances before congressional interrogators. She's now collaborating with Houston writer Mimi Swartz on an upcoming tell-all book about life inside the Crooked E.

Jaded Houstonians have gotten used to losing architectural treasures to the wrecking ball. After all, the cavalier attitude of most Houston developers seems to be "out with the old, in with the new," regardless of the results. Even modern architectural gems risk destruction -- but not if Houston Mod can help it. The organization is on a quest to preserve the modern architecture of both Houston and Texas, using advocacy and education to spread its message. The city's newest, hippest preservation group sponsors classes, lectures, study tours and the like. Stephen Fox, architectural historian and author of the Houston Architectural Guide, is one of Houston Mod's several founders. Word to Houston developers: Just because a building is modern, that doesn't mean it's not an architectural classic. Check with Houston Mod before you call in the demolition team.

Republican Lynn Hughes hardly blinked when he advanced from his state district court (a civil one, no less) to the federal bench some 12 years ago. That characteristic aplomb has yet to be erased by some of the most demanding cases at the federal courthouse. He's coupled a healthy disdain for the traditional veil of legalese with a quiet but firm demeanor that has established him as one of the most independent jurists anywhere. Hughes demanded answers in a shady immunity deal for the notorious Graham brothers. And he didn't shy away from forcing the government to admit to submitting a false affidavit against an ex-CIA agent and lying to a grand jury in a bank fraud case. By now, his straightforward search for the truth is legendary among lawyers.

The Diana Ross of Destiny's Child is the crossover queen of pop at the moment, with platinum albums and a starring role in MTV's sultry Hip Hopera, Carmen. It's a Knowles family affair, with father Mathew as Svengali manager, and mother Tina as group costume designer and beautician. Not only is the group a survivor, as its signature song declares, but it seems to be omnipresent. From the Houston Chronicle fashion columns to that NBA playoff game where Philadelphia fans nearly booed them off the stage for wearing Laker jerseys, Destiny's Child is everywhere. Beyoncé and her co-stars, Kelly Rowland and Michelle Williams, have become so overexposed in the media they are in danger of contracting the video version of skin cancer. For the good of us all, won't someone give these girls a well-earned vacation?

Recent statistics show that the average American wedding costs $20,000. Not only is that the cost of a car or four years at a state university spent on one single day, we guarantee you that most of your guests will be too drunk or bored to care if the bridesmaids' shoes match the ushers' socks. So why not get economical about the affair? At Harmony Wedding Chapel the cost of the average wedding is about $200. And that includes taped music and use of the "Bride's Room," a pink-carpeted waiting area with a picture of Jesus hanging on the wall. For nearly 40 years, this little blue-and-white building off the Gulf Freeway has been the place to get hitched for couples from all over the Houston area and beyond; they handle as many as ten weddings each Saturday. Yes, the chapel's carpet is seafoam-green, and there's a large sign in the office that warns "NO REFUNDS ON WEDDINGS." But everywhere you look there are photographs of happy couples who have sent notes to Harmony with thanks for hosting their special day. So who cares if it's not the Four Seasons? After all, love is blind.

Sure, this jurist was plenty enthusiastic about assuming the bench. Tad Halbach came equipped with a solid sense of humor and a levelheaded nature that meant that the most voracious of attorneys weren't going to push him around. But other newcomers also have landed a judicial post with that kind of energy. The big difference is that Judge Halbach, six years later, shows more of that eagerness and obvious dedication than ever. He was well grounded in civil law when he arrived -- he's only increased that expertise, without losing any of that good-natured, down-to-earth approach to the people who appear in his court. His Houston Bar poll rankings reflect that. The former Eagle Scout has impressed an ample number of cynical old civil lawyers and first-time civilians with his clear opinions and judicial presence, in the toughest of cases. If only more of the once-new judiciary had his ever-fresh love for the law.

Harris County's state district courts were in big trouble in 1997, when the judicial ethics commission in effect bounced then-judge William Bell from the 281st Court bench. Stepping in after that mess was quiet newcomer Jane Bland, a pregnant lawyer who was only 32 -- and looked about ten years younger. Soon, however, even veteran jurists were noticing the unique maturity and stability Bland brought to the bench. She matched a considerable legal acumen with ample interest in social issues such as raising funds for the homeless. Now Bland's one of the proven veterans. She's worked through varied and tough cases: a challenge to the city's billboard law, litigation over the terrorist murders of four businessmen in Pakistan, wrestling with redistricting issues, and even disputes involving Destiny's Child. The name's Bland. The performance is anything but.

The Rice University campus is a world unto itself. When you drive past its stately gates, suddenly you're enveloped in a collegiate, oak tree-shaded enclave populated with old brick buildings. Unlike most other parts of Houston, the campus has a sense of history. Lovett Hall, which has been around since 1912, is a beautiful building. There's an air of permanence to it -- which is why starry-eyed engaged people want to pose in front of its graceful arches for their wedding photos. Perhaps (against all odds) their unions will be permanent too. Note: Backpacked folks wandering to class are a background hazard.

Do you remember the '80s dance song by Yello, the one that had the vocal line that stretched out in a deep bass? That's the feeling you get on a Friday evening in September when the flaming fist of Queen Bitch Summer has begun to loosen and you stroll out onto the second-floor balcony of Ernie's with a fresh cold pint of Fat Tire. What's left of the sun is sparkling golden and pink through the branches of the Museum District's massive oaks, and you prop your feet up on the round plastic table, lean back in a comfy chair and lazily muse about nothing in particular while gazing down at the sylvan tranquillity of newly renovated Bell Park. Ooooohh, yeaaaaahhhh.

Too bad for Harris County and the state of Texas. Those damned technicalities keep getting in the way of another good execution! All the law asks is that defendants get a fair trial and adequate legal representation. And it's exactly those onerous standards that have stymied the county and state in putting down Calvin Burdine. Even though his attorney snoozed during in his 1983 capital murder trial, the trial judge and state appellate courts still upheld the death penalty verdict. But U.S. District Judge David Hittner had a strange notion that a defense lawyer ought to at least stay awake in trial. Hittner's view was vetoed by a panel of the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, but that full court flipped again and supported his logic. Finally, with the rest of the nation wondering just what passes for a judiciary in Texas, the U.S. Supreme Court endorsed Hittner's original ruling. State officials and judges, of course, howled in protest. We hope the outrage is loud enough to wake up the electorate -- the ones who decide who's supposed to safeguard fundamental American rights.