Counting by 7s(57)

Mai is the ultimate pragmatist. Maybe she gets that from her mother.



Power sprayers are powerful.

Hence the name.

I haven’t been around one until now, and so this is all new to me.

We get back to the Gardens of Glenwood and Mai goes upstairs and puts on her new (used) raincoat.

She bought the designer jacket when I got my running shoes and I thought it was a waste of money.

Now I wish I had one.

Quang-ha comes downstairs when we’re just about to get started.

Maybe because the rental equipment resembles a machine gun, he looks interested.



Quang-ha wants to try pressure spraying.

He fires up the engine and it’s as if he’s holding an Uzi. The force of the water takes a lot of strength to control.

A river of grime falls.

I watch, from a distance, and it takes some time before I realize something else is happening besides the clean-up.

The pink paint underneath the dirt is also being removed.

And so is the bumpy stucco coating.

This is all demonstrating the theory of connectedness.

Not mathematically speaking, but in a real-world way.

Removing the lava rock and black plastic liner exposed the hard-packed dirt.

Once that was tilled and the wind whipped a portion of it up onto the walls, the power sprayer was brought in, and that started to take off the deadly colored pink paint as well as the grime.

What’s underneath is a soft, natural gray.

But now we have to power spray the whole place to make it match.

Or else repaint the building.

Connectedness.

One thing leads to another.

Often in unexpected ways.





Chapter 50





We rotate.

If the sprayer is on the lowest setting, even I can manage.

Quang-ha does a huge section, pretending, I believe, that he’s in a video game.

I take my turn, but my productivity is lousy.

It’s such a struggle for me to control the nozzle that I can barely move.

I am the littlest one, but I give it everything I have. I’m pretty sure that if I hadn’t been doing my afternoon jogging, I wouldn’t have lasted for more than a minute on my feet.

We have to be very careful because the filthy water runs down the windows. So after we’ve washed an area, we then need to clean the glass. But we can’t do that with the power sprayer.

We are all now working, even Dell, when Jairo’s taxi pulls up.

I see him and Pattie talking for a while at the curb.

Somehow, it doesn’t seem strange that his whole backseat just happens to be filled with rags and three of those squeegee things.

Jairo finds an extension ladder in the carport and he takes over the window issues.



It’s dark and we’re still at it.

Even Quang-ha hasn’t given up.

We take turns sitting on plastic milk crates and aiming flashlight beams up at the building.

A man comes out and we think he’s going to yell at us. But he’s friendly and gives us each a peppermint candy.

He even donates a poinsettia for the garden when we’re ready to plant. He’s had it for almost a year and can’t believe he’s kept it alive.

We have finished the interior courtyard walls, and now we’re working our way around the outside of the building.

We have brooms to direct the run-off, which is a big job in and of itself.

There is a pink-brown stream with stucco bits that flows from whatever area has been sprayed.

If you aren’t aiming the light, you are swooshing the water down into the drains.

Jairo has been washing windows for hours.

Quang-ha has taken control as the Most Valuable Player of apartment power spraying.

He is the only one who power sprays like an athlete.

Since I’ve never seen him do any kind of sport, and I’m skeptical about his bowling, I’m surprised.

Physical stamina is a component in leadership, even in the modern world, where it isn’t necessary to be able to harness an ox.

Because it is still impressive if you can.



As it gets really late, Dell retrieves one of his old lawn chairs from the second-floor balcony.

He starts to relax.

Or maybe the muscle pain relievers Pattie gave him kick in.

People now seem to think the garden is a good idea. It’s possible they are just thrilled to have their windows washed.

The sky is filled with stars.

More stars than I ever remember seeing, and I’ve spent a lot of time at night with my head tilted back analyzing the constellations.

Quang-ha has done more laughing in the last ten hours than I’ve seen in the last ten weeks.

He just finds everything funny now.

I didn’t understand until recently that emotions could be so contagious.

I now know why comedians are important in culture.

Sitting on a milk crate in the middle of the night with a flashlight illuminating what at this point is a paint-blasting project, I laugh too.

At nothing, really.

Then I realize that I’m laughing because I’m laughing.



It’s after three in the morning.

Jairo’s gone. Pattie went to bed after he left. Mai can’t seem to stop herself from pushing run-off water away from the building with a broom.