This week's Reader screams "think!" I reach for some coffee...

This weeks cover story: Jesus of Carmel Mountain Ranch

The pull between those that work for you and the you that you are (something like that) and the kind of upper middle class existance you live because of it. Jesus does her lawn, keeps her yard acceptable for her Home Owners Association. And she suffers the requisite pause:

Amid the glut, I'm struck by the urge to give him something that says I'm sorry for asking you to feed and groom my world.

Instead of the $8 he quoted, I pay him $10 an hour. An extra $2 for watching him collect rose-bush trimmings barehanded and wondering how he irons his shirts without an ironing board, with a wife in Mexico.