Someone called me “spry” the other day: “You’re pretty spry yourself,” she said.
Bah! What a shock–does that mean I’m growing old? Can’t be.
We were talking of trusts and Medicare and home care and Medicaid so no doubt that’s what triggered it.
I don’t know why I’m upset. I pride myself on being brisk in my walking, bounding up a flight of stairs. Well, a half-flight of stairs, and not all the time. If that isn’t spry, I don’t know what is. Only I’ve never heard a twenty-year-old called spry. The dictionary says active and nimble, of Scandinavian origin, meaning it came over with the Vikings raiders to England.
Wikidictionary says, having great power of leaping or running. Yes! Me and the Viking kings leaping and running over the short, squrunty* denizens of old England, the Picts and such. Give me my sword!

* means short and thick. Not to be found in any dictionary.