Los achaques de la edad

That's a hard word to translate. Achaques. According to Google translator it is "aches and pains." That's as far as it goes. It does not explain the slow down, the fall asleep anywhere, the lack of energy, the waking up at all hours even if you don't need to go to the bathroom, the cold compresses on joints . . . oh so many things.

Achaques.

Sounds like attacks doesn't it. The attacks of old age. Matter of fact that's what my spell checker would like to change it to. Attacks. Old age does attack you. Sneaks up slowly. A pop here, a groan there, besides the odd and permanent grey hair. The girth just, well, its just keeps on doesn't it?

Seems like I need to exercise a hell of a lot more now to lose way too little. Youth is definitely wasted on the young. They have NO idea how good they have it.

Then again, I like my age (that'll be 52 by the way). I feel like I hit my stride. I can focus and stay on focus (well, most of the time). I have experience. I have knowledge I did not have when I began my teaching journey. I feel like I am slicker than ever.

My doctor once told me that we are (and we both are about the same age) at a great time in our lives. That between the knowledge we have, the experience we have and the lack of fear . . . well, we can sure get a lot more done than all those young puppies companies and districts are pouring money into.

We are just inconvenient to those large corporations, etc. We are inconvenient because we are paid more due to the amount of time being with them.

Inconvenient? Inconvenient is that I need reading glasses to write this. Inconvenient is that I don't have the muscle mass of some of my 16 year old students. But I am a sly, well seasoned old cat. What I don't have in muscle, I have in cunning.

Part of the achaques I guess.

Achaques. Funny word. Achaques.

My grandmother would explain her aches, pains and overall lack of health as "los achaques de la edad." Never mind that she knelt for a good part of the evening, on tiled floor, while saying a few rosaries and other prayers in her candle lit room. I am sure even God was laughing - "¿Achaques? Mi'ja. E' que tu no te cuida'." (Attacks? My girl, you just don't take care of yourself). I gave God a puertorrican accent. Seems to go well with the God I grew up with.

Oh I have your inconvenient muscle spasm. And the now becoming more popular groans. And those damned grey hairs cropping up everywhere. But I also feel better than ever. I can do this. I can be even better than I was when I began.

I am up for retirement in about two years. Will I retire then? Doubtful.

What to do on my next life? Don't know yet.

But I will be great at it. And very well seasoned.

And oh, those achaques will make it a bit more fun.

Yeah, this post was for me. I wanted to do this for me. I'll ad more info on my parents later since I am here for the week. But this one. This one. Mine, all mine.