With Ann's help, you can buy off the rack and look like you're wearing a designer original. You walk in, step behind the green velvet curtain, take off your clothes and try on the outfit you like. Then she measures and pins and makes it so that your horrible oversized outfit looks like it was made to order. One really cool thing about Ann is her one-hour service. If you have a hot date that night or forget to try on that bridesmaid dress until an hour before the wedding, she can help. You'll have to press for an estimate in order to get something other than "not much." You'll also want to check a day or two ahead of your pickup date if you've told her there's no hurry. Sometimes Ann interprets "no hurry" as "lowest priority." But remind her you want to wear that sassy little number tonight and she'll sew like the wind.

"My business is words. Words are like labels / Or coins, or better, like swarming bees," writes Anne Sexton, in Said the Poet to the Analyst. The shrink may have tried Thorazine to subdue Sexton's swarm, but the tenacious buzzing persists. Her works and those of many of the giants of world poetry line Bookstop's well-stocked shelves, poised to unleash their fury on readers. Many of the offerings -- Eliot, Frost, Whitman, Byron, Chaucer -- are standard English-class grist. But you'll also find more than 20 volumes by Pablo Neruda; works by Baudelaire, Vallejo, the beats, James Wright, Weldon Kees, even Patti Smith; and an extensive collection of anthologies, including ones dedicated to African-American, Civil War, French and English verse. The store makes some attempt to keep current with works like Seamus Heaney's recent translation of Beowulf, Ted Hugh's Birthday Letters, and newer books by Charles Simic and Sharon Olds. Younger poets most likely will be found in anthologies, with one notable exception: pop singer Jewel's A Night Without Armor.

Dave Payne can do just about anything when it comes to the guitar. Besides his own beautiful playing and singing, which runs the gamut from classical to funk, he's got enough patience and good grace to teach anybody else how to follow his lead. Everybody from middle-aged engineers looking to perfect all those blues licks they've been working on for decades to adolescent punk rockers (that include groups such as the Collapsing Horse and Chowderheads) to teenage girls interested in pick-styled classical guitar has benefited from Payne's good-humored teaching style and gentle manner, which make the hard work of learning how to play a whole lot of fun.

Some people kill plants. Some overwater their petunias until they turn to mush. Some just don't want to dig in the dirt. So they hire other people to make their backyards pretty. It's too hard and too hot to plant plumerias and palm trees yourself. It's time to call Vicente Torrez. The bamboo trees he planted last summer have stretched up to the sky. The ginger and elephant ears are thriving. The plumeria may not have made it, but the confederate jasmine is growing up the fence. So if you are your garden's grim reaper and plants die the minute you walk out the back door, we suggest you call Vicente. His green thumb is big enough for the both of you.

Contrary to what The New York Times Magazine seems to think, Houston is green, not brown. But God didn't make it that way, the Teas family did. By 1951, according to the Teas Web site, the nursery and landscaping company had planted more than one million trees in Houston. They landscaped Rice University, the River Oaks subdivision and Bellaire Boulevard, where the nursery has been located since 1910. This ten-acre site is more like a park than a nursery, with soft gravel paths for strolling by nearly every imaginable plant that will grow in this part of the world -- and some that usually don't. But the best part about visiting Teas is the information desk. Ask them anything -- these garden geeks cannot be stumped.

Bean curd doesn't have to be tasteless, especially if you can buy it fresh. Thanh Son-Hien Khanh makes its tofu daily. Unlike the packaged stuff, which can have a tinge of sourness to it and behave with the consistency of an eraser, this tofu is soft, silky and as fluffy as tofu can possibly get. Poke it, and it wiggles back; panfry it, and it darkens to a healthy gold. Or don't fry it -- Thanh Son-Hien Khanh sells deep-fried bean curd as well. This tiny strip-mall store also offers soy milk by the gallon, colorful Vietnamese desserts and the closest thing to tofu pudding you can get without flying to Hong Kong. Served with ginger syrup, the pudding isn't creamy and sugary like the western kind, but more solid and wholesome, and tastes like, well, sweetened tofu.

Summer in a swampland means clawing at your skin, scratching hundreds of mosquito bites. It means every dinner you eat outdoors has to be lit with citronella candles. And it means the constant sound of blue bug lights zapping. Add to that reports of mosquitoes in the Houston area carrying the West Nile virus and you'll definitely want to wipe out those pesky bloodsuckers. You need the Buffy of the mosquito world: the mister system. It lines the fence and mists the air every few hours. The air ends up smelling like Off, which may interfere with the effects of your poolside aromatherapy lamp, but it's a fantastic trade-off.

Yes, Petco is a chain, but it doesn't feel like one. Walk in with your pet, whatever it may be. This store is friendly, convenient and fast. It carries the biggest selection of pet products from the finest brands, as well as lizards, birds, tropical fish, snakes, spiders and all the goodies you might need for your new friend. Whenever we visit Petco, we always spy at least one happy dog eyeing the buffet of gourmet biscuits. And we're grateful they offer low-cost vaccinations and vet services, plus they support the SPCA in finding loving companions for homeless pets. The employees are extremely helpful and are glad to be there. So dress up your dog and take him shopping; you'll love Petco as much as he does.

Okay, we're cheating here. Obviously you can't buy -- in the traditional sense of the word -- CDs at this Web site. What you can do, however, is find MP3s of local and regional bands, then with a few mouse clicks, make a purchase. The site is essentially an MP3.com for Houston acts, but better. It's Houston-based, run by ex-local band geek James Lewey, who knows his shit, and also provides for the sale of T-shirts and other assorted local band paraphernalia. Participating bands, which number about 100 at this point, don't have to worry about huckster surfers logging on and absconding with MP3s. Lewey gives away only about half of every song -- just little samples. Surfers who are enticed and crave an entire meal need to whip out their credit cards. The future of local music commerce is in our backyard.

Little things mean a lot, especially when the family pet leaves big messes in your yard. With both parents working, it's hard to keep up with the cooking and cleaning and lawn care, let alone enjoy home life. But Scoop le Poop makes having a dog that much easier. For a reasonable fee, le Poop makes regular visits to discretely remove offending matter. No need to worry about these professional scoopers transmitting other dogs' diseases to your household. These waste wranglers are so tidy with their equipment, you'd think they trained with a biohazard unit. (Services start at $15, with discounts for senior citizens and service dogs.)