For more than 30 years the Wheeler Watch Clinic sat near the grubby corner of Wheeler and Main. Now it's nowhere to be found on Wheeler. Don't worry. It kept the name, but moved down the street more than a year ago. Now the modest little shop sits at Main and Anita and watches as Metro tears up the street in front of it. Wheeler Watch Clinic is a family affair; it's not unusual to see three generations of the Galvan family in the store at any given time: Grandpa and Grandma, the couple's sons, and wide-eyed toddlers who take shaky steps around the shop. The Galvans have built this business on honesty, and the prices prove it: They're so reasonable. Getting a battery changed costs $6.50 for most models. One customer reports that she had her watchband fixed there for a mere $2. "Two dollars!" she enthuses, "You can't buy anything for $2 anymore." Wheeler Watch Clinic also has a little pawn-shop area and is an authorized Pulsar dealer, but the selection of watches is not as good as the service.

Vitalis Onu recoils at flowing, overelaborate garments that prompt onlookers to query, "Who's that prince?" For Onu, the creator of the fashion line Citalis, the key is graceful simplicity. That principle is evident throughout the native Nigerian's vibrant showroom in an office building on Richmond near Hillcroft. The racks overflow with robes, caftans and woko suits made of silk, linen and other materials in a variety of shimmering colors. Each piece bears Citalis's stunningly elegant embroidery work. A lovely dark gray caftan comes with swirls of blue stitching down the front. A checkered silk robe features olive-green squares set against a pea-green background. Citalis offers men's and women's wares, custom-made and off-the-rack. Prices for blouses with matching skirts, and for men's outfits, range from $200 to $350. The store also offers velvet hats decorated with lace. While distinctively African, Onu's designs include crossover lines for American buyers. His wares can be found in stores like Festari for Men in the Galleria area. A tall, elegant man dressed in a gleaming black woko suit, Onu summarizes the exacting standard to which he holds himself: "If I can't wear my clothing, I can't sell it."

For selection, you just can't beat Planet Anime. This Rice Village store has more than 2,500 tapes for rent, and many for sale, though approximately 400 were destroyed by the flood. Looking for Cowboy Bebop, BubbleGum Crisis, Martian Successor Nadesico, Ranma 1/2 or Tenchi Muyo? Planet Anime has got them in subtitles, so you don't have to watch bastardized, dubbed American versions. The small store, which also does mail-order business, carries manga (comic books), T-shirts, wall scrolls, action figures, stuffed animals and other enticing imported goodies that won't let you get away without paying through the nose. Where else can you get an adult-sized costume of a furry animal from one particular anime series? (And where else could you spot a store clerk wearing one of these?) Perhaps the oddest touch is the TV behind the counter that often blares music videos by the Japanese versions of 'N Sync and Blink 182 with nonsensical English names like Bump of Chicken and Da Pump.

Houston has a special fondness for its firearms. That's obvious from the sheer number and variety of outlets, from Carter's Country -- that Wal-Mart of weaponry -- to other high-profile retailers. Top Gun takes a different, specialized tact. Just like most golfers know they shouldn't buy clubs until they test them out, Top Gun realizes that live-fire is the only sure way for a shooter to know that this gun's just right. Tucked away in a small building a block south of Richmond, Top Gun has one of the rare indoor (and air-conditioned) shooting ranges. The state-of-the-art 15-lane facility can be used to test-fire potential purchases. And there are special bargains for those who want to buy the rental weapons. There isn't a huge on-site inventory, but the veteran staff can help novices find the best-suited guns for them, and soon have 'em ready. And with the upscale range awaiting, you can be assured of always hitting the mark on purchases. Top Gun's approach is right on target.

My Cigar Shop: Cigar Factory Sure, there are a lot of tobacconists around town who have nicer stores and more selection than Reno Bayo, but the man wins out because of the little things. His shop is nestled in a strip center between a pedicure place and a tattoo shop, making la-di-da pretension an impossibility. Inside is a small humidor with stogies that are all Cuban seed, all long filler, all hand-rolled and all good. Or if you'd rather roll your own, Bayo will be happy to show you how it's done. Hell, even the surgeon general would be impressed with this man's skills.

It's a widely held view that inadequate state funding for the Mental Health and Mental Retardation Authority of Harris County is to blame for the steady collapse of the local public mental health system. That's certainly how MHMRA incessantly spins the situation, and policy makers and elected officials, out of ignorance or convenience, largely have gone along. Last winter, a handful of rabble-rousing patients and advocates began challenging the performance of MHMRA administrators and, to the discomfort of the agency's die-hard apologists, pointing out the human cost of repeated budget cuts. Rejected as contrarians, the group decided to organize as a nonprofit organization committed to bringing greater attention to patient needs. Recently, Houston Area Mental Health Advocates' president, attorney Robert Hager, was awarded seats on two mental health advisory councils. While Hager is still the proverbial voice in the wilderness, HAMHA finally lends something other than an obsession with the bottom line to the debate over mental health care.

This business has been in operation since 1949, a pivotal year in automotive history. It was the first year Detroit issued brand-new models after the war. Back then, the average family car was almost a decade old, and Americans finally had money to purchase some new wheels. And when they did, they wanted to keep 'em clean. Back in the day, it was Olds Rocket 88s, Jeepsters and Studebakers. Now it's everything from SUVs and Cadillacs to pickup trucks, sedans and even clunkers. Taking your car to Minit Man on South Main is like hiring maid service for your vehicle. They do an outstanding job cleaning your car, inside and out, paying attention to detail and leaving it with your choice of air freshener. And if, by chance, you're the kind who abandons logic and believes in the fallacy of post hoc, ergo propter hoc, Minit Man issues a rain check to every customer for a free wash if it rains within 24 hours of bringing it in, because everyone knows that getting your car washed is a sure sign of a downpour.

Arne's Located in a spooky, red brick factory building in the industrial strip between Montrose and the Heights, Arne's is the perfect department store for all of your ghoulish needs. Hike up the stairs and past the still-operating conveyor belt and you'll find enough freakish fashion options to outfit an apocalypse. Whether you're into witches, devils, vampires, demons, trolls or fluffy bunnies, Arne's has got you covered. Choose from not one but two varieties of beehive wigs, ten kinds of boas and four types of horns that attach to your head. Arne's is the Wal-Mart of the underworld; creepy deals slither off the shelves. Get a witch's cauldron for only $3.96 or a plastic butt for $4.92. With so much to choose from, you might have a hard time making up your mind. If all else fails, go for the pregnant nun, complete with inflatable belly.

The nice thing about having a mall like Town & Country crash and burn is that rent plummets to the point that more obscure independent stores like Toys for All can move in. Specializing in vintage toys and games spanning the entire spectrum of obsessive-compulsive hobbies, from Beanie Babies and Barbies to board games and Hot Wheels, this store even manages to carry a larger selection than the average chain mall stores. The only downside is that the place serves adult clientele more than the under-12 set. Still, the shop carries enough of the latest toy lines and harder-to-find items from the current fads to keep the little ones smiling. Hours: Monday through Saturday from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m., and Sunday from noon to 6 p.m.

Flea Market Row Driving up Airline past I-45 and 610 on a Sunday afternoon, you might think you're approaching a Rolling Stones concert or a sold-out Houston Texans game. But nope. You would have known if the Stones were coming to town, and the Texans play in that building down by the Dome. So what the heck is going on up here? Just an average Sunday on Flea Market Row, with half the city out on a shopping -- and drinking -- expedition. The markets are within walking distance of one another and all feature live music from the region's best Latino musicians. The fare is traditional: bootleg Chingo Bling T-shirts, Dope House Records CDs, Mexican blankets, Day of the Dead stuff, tools and cigarettes. Bring ten bucks and get a beer, some nachos, a rusty pipe wrench and a butane lighter and stroll to the sounds of mariachi, Tejano, cumbia and even some rock en español.