Living the Zumba

Last week, I was at the gym doing Zumba when my son walked in for his own brand of workout (which involves lifting far more than he weighs, several times in a row, in several different positions, without complaining—not a talent he got from me).

"Then Mrs. G., stopped me", he told me later, "and told me to come watch you in the Zumba class."

"She did?" I said. (Oh dear, I thought.)

"Yes," my son continued. "She said that some people do Zumba and other people live it, and that you are the living kind."

I think this must mean that I don't act my age. But whatever it is, I'm keen on living.