Stressed? Tired? Tired of feeling stressed and tired? Walk past all the people on blankets soaking up the sun in the boring part of the park and stroll into the Japanese gardens. There's a suggested donation, but we've yet to see someone sitting in the booth. When you walk in, there are little pagodas and rock gardens and beautiful flowers. Beyond lies a little hill with waterfalls flowing by a serenity pond and reflection pool. The place looks like the cover shot for a book of haikus. There are footbridges galore, and little baby ducks following their mothers. It's a peaceful, shady, tree-laden place to stare at the water and try to think Zen thoughts.

All right, all right. We know what you're thinking. But remember, this is the issue where we're supposed to be nice. And anyway, who fits this award better? Linda Lay knew she wasn't winning any fans after her Tammy Faye Bakker moment on the Today show ("We've lost everything!"). So rather than continue the pity-me route, Lay took the much more American approach. She picked herself up by her Fendi bootstraps and started Jus' Stuff, a resale shop in Montrose. The store is full of all sorts of items once officially owned by one of Houston's most favorite families -- and there really are items the public can afford. From lamps to tables to little knickknacks, here's a chance to get your hands on a curio from one of this city's biggest stories. And come on, you've got to hand it to the gal for trying.

Whenever a political stew is brewing involving Houston's left and right wings, expect to find the hand of this West University-based swami stirring the pot. Along with his wife and fund-raising partner, Elizabeth, Allen Blakemore is a force in next fall's supposedly nonpartisan Houston municipal races. He's strategizing for first-term councilman Michael Berry in an increasingly bitter guerrilla war against former councilman Orlando Sanchez for the hearts and votes of conservative Republicans. Blakemore has a built-in advantage there, having served for years as the Sancho Panza for westside political kingmaker Dr. Steven Hotze. He's also coordinating the strategy of area conservatives to win a majority on the 15-member council in November. When Democrats mounted a full-court press last year in an attempt to crack the GOP stranglehold on Harris County judgeships, Blakemore joked that the Democratic county chairperson Sue Schechter "may be liable for deceptive trade practices," adding, "She is going to lead these poor souls to slaughter, and it's going to end up being a cruel joke." After the Dem judicial slate and the vaunted statewide "Dream Team" crashed and burned, and Schechter resigned, only Blakemore was still standing to savor the joke.

Recently one morning while on our way to work, we were driving along Feagan Street in the West End when we saw what we first thought was a man with a metal detector in the ditch in front of what used to be Zocolo Theater, the alternative outdoor film and art center. As we got closer we saw that the man was wearing plastic goggles, was smoking a big pipe, and had a huge white handlebar mustache. And instead of a metal detector, the man was holding a weed-eater. It was then than we finally recognized former Harris County district attorney Johnny Holmes, who, following his retirement last year, now apparently spends part of his time applying the death penalty to unwanted vegetation.

The stuff of public art, hike-and-bike paths, youth programs and parks are pleasant municipal amenities, to be certain. Even residents who don't personally partake of such things can still feel good about having them as part of life in Houston. But all those come after what ought to be the priorities of any public service agency: peace of mind. Sewer lines should work. And trash should get picked up. And -- especially on the freeways of Houston -- we need truck enforcement. The motoring masses shouldn't be regularly terrorized by huge tractor-trailer rigs barreling down on them or sandblasting sedans with refuse from unsecured loads. For 30 incredible years, Houston police largely looked the other way at truck safety violations. As late as mid-1999, police officials gave the excuse that they weren't going to get involved in such "regulatory" functions. Meanwhile, truckers ran amok. After a rash of big-rig wrecks, police finally relented. In October '99, Sergeant C.J. Klausner began the Truck Enforcement Unit with ten full-time officers (another 30 work one day a week for the unit). Statistics (as of July) are staggering. The unit has inspected 5,000 18-wheelers and issued 6,000 citations along with 23,000 formal warnings. After being stopped and inspected, 53 percent of trucks (twice the national average) have been ordered off the road until repairs are made or properly certified drivers are found. Some 500 drivers have been arrested, either for past warrants or other infractions -- or for having no licenses at all. "We've been accepted very well," Klausner says. "Mainstream truckers want to do a good job." And the unit virtually pays for itself through the revenues generated. While Houstonians ought to be horrified at having to wait so long for units that were long established in smaller communities, our hats are off to HPD. When it comes to curbing bad trucks, better late than never.

This is how bank lobbies are supposed to be: gilded, titanic, chock-full of patterned marble and with a ceiling as soaring as a newly minted MBA's ambition. The ceiling of this grand banking hall is a full six stories above the worker ants below. It's clear that Jesse Jones -- at whose behest this majestic edifice and more than 100 other buildings were built -- was not one to think small, and it shows not just in the lobby but also in the exterior of this Gothic skyscraper. Don't forget to check out the historical art deco murals in the lobby's entrance halls -- the retro-futuristic one depicting what must by now be the past is pretty hilarious.

What do you do if you're an ambitious young Hispanic politico who has run afoul of the traditional Democratic powers that be in the Latino community? District H City Councilman Gabe Vasquez's solution was to change playing fields. Earlier this year, he jumped to the Republican Party. Hispanic officials have prospered in the Texas GOP in recent years, mostly through appointments to plum posts like Texas secretary of state. With Republicans in control of both the White House and the statehouse, it's only a matter of time till Vasquez receives a job summons from on high.

The view from the Fred Hartmann Bridge is hauntingly beautiful, particularly at sunset. From this graceful perch unfolds a landscape straight out of science fiction, an expanse of petrochemical plants fanning out along the snaking Ship Channel as far as the eye can see. As darkness descends, flares lap at the sky, and little white lights outline the plants' towers, pipelines and processing units like twinkling Christmas lights. The vista conjures images of a metropolis from a different galaxy. Roughly half of the nation's petrochemical industry cleaves to Houston's paved bosom, and no place affords a better view of that industrial might. Out-of-town visitors will be duly amazed at this uniquely Houston panorama. The bridge, which runs along Highway 146 and connects La Porte to Baytown, overlooks Alexander Island, Black Duck Bay and Tabbs Bay, as well as the San Jacinto Monument, our soaring tribute to Texas independence. With its sleek yellow cables and long, tapered roadway, the Fred Hartmann Bridge is itself a lovely site to behold.

Eight days before Christmas, Officer Rhule was driving down the Beltway when he saw two women on the side of the road trying to change their tire. Their jack didn't work, so he took his and changed it for them, but their spare was almost flat. He took them to a nearby Stop N Go and put air in the tire. "But then I got to looking, and two of the four tires were terrible," he says. Plus, the passenger was nine months pregnant and due any day. He has two daughters himself. Rhule says the last thing he wanted the stranded women to worry about was whether the car would get them to the hospital when the baby came, so he took them to Wal-Mart and bought them two new tires. "I paid for them and told them to have a good Christmas and have good luck with the baby," he says. We think this is one of the nicest, kindest acts we've ever heard of, especially since it was the day before the officer's 38th birthday. "They were just good people who were having a tough time," he says. "An expectant mother has got plenty on her mind anyway. I just didn't feel comfortable letting them drive."

Veteran campaign consultant and lobbyist Bill Miller, of the Austin-based Hillco Partners, has represented a lot of tough clients, one of the more demanding being Les Alexander. The Houston Rockets owner is legendary for trying to exploit every angle of a deal, and he pushed the envelope this spring by trying to maintain control of the food and beverage concessions at the new downtown arena -- in violation of a campaign promise that minority enterprises would receive 30 percent of the arena's operating revenues. Miller did what he could to control the damage, and helped design a strategy of utilizing local minority politicians, including state Senator Rodney Ellis and state Representative Sylvester Turner, to push the Rockets' case. Under pressure from a lawsuit, Alexander finally saw the light and cut a deal with local civil rights groups to end the controversy. Miller also represented Four Families in its upset victory at Houston City Council in the hotly contested "Food Fight" for Hobby Airport concessions. In the process, he whipped last year's best lobbyist, Dave Walden, to earn the 2003 crown.