Cool evenings find the umbrella-studded corner patio at Taco Milagro packed with the young and the beautiful. Whether you're looking to be discovered by modeling agents from Page Parkes down the street or the politicos and oil magnates who frequent the Downing Street cigar bar next door, this place is all about seeing and being seen. Sit back, keep those Gucci shades on all night, and sip tequila. They'll find you.

Quick, finish this sentence: "We believe in new beginnings, we..." If you answered "believe in you" without skipping a beat, you are one of the thousands who have gladly been sucked in with one of the best marketing campaigns in Houston history -- that of Lakewood Church. The catchy jingle is the brainchild of Joel Osteen, our pick for best religious leader. Osteen, who took over the position as head pastor when his father, John, passed away a few years ago, has managed to expand the megachurch while retaining the same folksy charm that made him popular in the first place. A modest, quiet man, Osteen concentrates on spreading God's love instead of his damnation, and his sermons are full of feel-good messages that would cheer up even Winnie-the-Pooh's Eeyore. With that approach, it's no wonder the church is bursting at the seams. Next on Osteen's agenda? Shepherding the roughly 30,000 members of the church into Compaq Center.

Why let a little thing like a lack of belief in God keep you from going to church? The Houston Church of Freethought has been hosting monthly services, minus the religion, since 2000. Sunday-school sermons can cover such topics as the inclusion of "under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance or Darwin's theory of evolution. Just because you've strayed from the flock doesn't mean you see no benefit in belonging to a herd. There still exists the human need to share a little coffee and conversation with like-minded folks.

This former gatekeeper for Mayor Lee Brown lost her desk at City Hall after ducking a drug test. A former employee of Brown crony Danny Lawson, Mackey served the former drug czar as secretary and appointments coordinator since he returned to Houston in 1995 to establish credentials for his successful 1997 mayoral race. After she ousted several competitors for the ear of the mayor, Mackey met her own waterloo when asked to take a spot drug test. She initially avoided it by going home, took the test the following week and then resigned before the results became official. But don't feel too sorry for her. A loyal mayor Brown quickly found another position for Mackey: raising money for his current campaign for re-election.

The front of this market is much like that of any other grocery store. But walk past the pretty piles of fresh strawberries and green beans to the back of the market, and you'll be tempted to look over your shoulder for the border patrol. Here, the vegetables are dirt-cheap -- you can get a basket of anything for $1. There are trucks selling tacos, rows of Mexican candies, even little fruit bouquets like the ones you might find south of the border. The delights of Mexico, with no fear of Montezuma's revenge.

Some BBBs have standards that hardly go beyond mounting membership plaques correctly. And Houston has historically lagged behind more progressive areas in policing scam artists. But the current aggressive bureau has stepped in repeatedly to warn naive consumers about schemes and scams before they can be ripped off. The feat is due in large part to Dan Parsons. The former radio newsman is new to the BBB's president/CEO position, but he's a seasoned warrior (2003 will be his 20th year with the bureau) in the trenches against fraud. With new programs such as a the "Scam Jam Festival" for young consumers, the BBB is educating new generations in smart consumerism. And with Parsons's refreshing tell-it-like-it-is approach to the BBB's crusade, the agency will be ensured unquestioned credibility and results for a long time to come. Move over, Marvin Zindler. Dan's the Man in these parts.

Here's to not letting work interfere with your priorities. On January 11 at the intersection of Milam and Congress, a man who had apparently been hit by an oncoming car and looked to be a minute from his death was being wheeled into the back of an ambulance by three paramedics. Before the driver sped away to the hospital, however, he was seen making a beeline for the Houston Press stand. Had the driver simply grabbed a copy and jumped back into the vehicle, we might have chalked it up to the hectic pace of his profession, but what makes this reader tops in our loyalty department is the fact that he then took the time to read our fine publication. In recognition of his dedication, from now on his copies of the Press will be free at all participating newsstands.

The best way to glimpse what youre missing as a nonmember of the country club set is to attend the annual River Oaks International Tennis Tournament. While the ticket is pricey, you dont need one to get on the grounds, only to enter the stadium. Sneak in some alcohol, because and this is a recent development -- you must be a member to order beer and mixed drinks. Once you're settled, gawk away. But a word to the wise: Stand still, wherever you are, during the national anthem; otherwise, some stiff wearing khakis and a navy-blue blazer may hassle you. On your way out, don't miss the miniature horses tied to the trees in some rich jerk's front yard -- a gawk-worthy site if ever there was one.

This former education dean at Texas Southern University rode the Republican express from an HISD trustee post to district superintendent to George Bush's secretary of education. Paige, whose college doctoral thesis was on the response times of collegiate football linemen, embraced the TAAS testing mania to score glory and hype as top public educator in the United States. But the blush may be off the rose for the newly minted Washington bureaucrat. A number of publications, including U.S. News and World Report and The New Republic, have reported that both the Bushies and Paige have soured on one another, and Paige may be thinking of returning to Houston.

At a time when most organizations are paring down, Big Brothers Big Sisters is pouring it on. Under the guidance of president Deborah Ortiz, Houston-based BBBS has expanded into an incredible 31 counties that stretch from the Gulf Coast upward into East Texas. The organization manages to be dead serious about its mission -- and yet not make the mistake of many agencies in taking itself too seriously. The so-called Bigs have fun; one event featured "Hunk Night" (Houston firefighter calendar models and the Houston Texan cheerleaders). And BBBS has evolved with the times. There are now programs for couples and entire families to "adopt " a child in need of reliable adult friends. In the last few years, agencies, politicians and pretty much everybody else seems to have discovered the power of the M-word -- mentoring -- as the solution to salvaging our youth. But that new buzzword for others has been the backbone of a half-century of efforts for BBBS. Staff and volunteers prove that with enough sweat and love, it gets results where others fail.