Judgement from the Deep – At Sea – [04/11/2014]

Posted on April 11, 2014 by GypsyShaughnessy

7It is up to the ship’s staff to decide, shall they be dunked? Or shall they survive?

It’s that time of year again…

Unlike last season when the heavens opened up and poured and forced us to close the dome of the mid-ship deck (which really did put a damper on the festivities) King Neptune’s visit to our humble vessel this season was blessed with blue skies and blazing sunshine…enabling all of us to be quite comfortable in our doctor’s scrubs and mermaid scales (Well only one person was wearing mermaid scales, and it definitely wasn’t me! The part of the mermaid Queen went to one of my other teammates and she was welcome to it! I’ll take my doctor’s scrubs any day!)

Gathering in the upstairs lounge before the ceremony began we stood by and watched as all the hapless pollywogs were hitched by the wrist (loosely don’t worry) to the long length of rope by which they would be dragged to their slimy sticky end, and the “Pirate King” (otherwise known as our DJ) came on the mic and announced the one very important rule:

Pollywogs! Remember THIS IS A ONE WAY FIGHT! Whatever they do to you, you LIE THERE and you TAKE IT. Got that? No fighting back! Oh and Pirates? Show NO MERCY!

The Pollywogs all respond with a slightly nervous murmur of laughter. Some of them know what’s coming, some don’t, some know half. The two Entertainment Team members who are being sacrificed knew what was waiting for them, one of them is the daughter of a Navy officer (and we have it so easy compared to what the Navy puts you through for the ceremony!) the other had seen pictures from previous crossings (thanks to Facebook I imagine!) but none the less, they played along. Good sports, one and all.

The medics led off the procession, clambering barefoot onto the shallow platform surrounding the pool to take our places behind the tables, then the Pollywogs were dragged in and thrown bodily into the cage constructed on the far side of the deck. Once the cage door was secured, the pirates reached behind the beverage counter and pulled out ice buckets of cold water which they then proceeded to douse the sacrifices with relentlessly (“be sure they are cleansed before they are sacrificed!”)…then at long last King Neptune and his Queen took their places, followed by the Captain, Hotel Director and the rest of the ship’s senior staff who would preside in judgement over the proceedings.

And of course our ever faithful and long suffering “cleaning lady” Jersey (a creation of our Travel Guide that somehow manages to make more hilarious every season) who sat to one side with her mop, apron and a cigarette dangling from her red-smeared mouth, ready to slop down the tables if they got too well…clean.

One by one the victims came before us, and one by one the call went out: LET ‘EM BAKE!!!! NO!! HIT THE DRINK!!!!

And the pool got murkier, and murkier….

At one point the judges couldn’t decide on a particular set of pollywogs’ fates (literally voted half and half, one thumb up one thumb down)…

Let the Medics decide!!!

*SHOVE* *SPLASH*

When the two Entertainment Team members hit the tables you couldn’t see the bottom off the pool, our YPC did a belly slide down the tables (which at that point we had shoved together since there were only two Pollywogs per department instead of four) and we proceeded to upend the last dregs from the slime barrels on top of her before she dived into the murky depths.

The sacrifices finished, the medics all looked at each other from our opposite sides of the pool and me and the other pink-scrub clad nurse held up three fingers for the countdown

ONE! TWO! THREE!

And jumped in before the pirates could shove us in.

Though the pirates took the plunge themselves only a few minutes later, make-up, curled hair and all.

So with the great ruler of the deep once more satisified, and the vile pollywogs successfully transformed into trusty shellbacks, our fair vessel was once again granted the seaweed pass for safe passage back to civilization.

All hail His Majesty, may he always grant us fair winds and following seas…

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Thoroughly Modern – At Sea – [04/06/2014]

Posted on April 7, 2014 by GypsyShaughnessy

flapper_mirror1There are those I suppose, think we’re mad
Heaven knows the world has gone to wrack and to ruin
What we think is chic unique and quite adorable
They think is odd and Sodom and Gomorra-able
But the fact is everything today is thoroughly modern
Check your personality
Everything today makes yesterday slow
Better face reality
Men say, it’s criminal what women’ll do
What they’re forgetting is this is 1922!

Despite the fact that we’re always prepared for it, the last Grand Ball of the season always seems to come much faster than any of us expect. And this season’s was a doozy. While we stayed with the traditional black and gold theme, we layered an element on top of it that turned the show room into a gala event full of fringes, feathers and swinging beads…

Welcome to the Great Gatsby.

Five o’clock in the afternoon found the team assembled en force inflating balloons, hanging curtains and dressing up all the statues and balcony supports in the main show lounge. Gradually transforming the everyday theatre into a space that was a cross between a ballroom and a speakeasy. By the time we were finished you almost expected someone to come up and tap you on the shoulder and ask where we kept the bathtub gin…

It should come as no surprise that I’ve been looking forward to this one. Of all my costumes (and yes, I know there are many) there are only two that I do to complete perfection – one is Maid Marion, who made her appearance for medieval night months ago, the other is “Millie” (so nicknamed because of Thoroughly Modern Millie for those who aren’t Broadway followers). My father has run a 1920s Dance Orchestra since I was about 10 years old, when I was a teenager I was something of a mascot, perched alongside my Mum at the CD table. There were occasionally people who would complain that we got to go to all the gigs for free, to which my father would curtly respond: “they’re working, just like we are.” At any rate, the band meant I learned a lot about the time period in question, the slang, the music, and yes, the clothes.

I own two flapper dresses. One is standard black, and neatly matches the ones the rest of the team’s. The other I’ve had since I was a lot younger, is snow white, with matching shoes, boa, gloves and headdress.

Standing at the entrance way handing out raffle tickets, people I see every day, including some of my closest friends among the service staff onboard…didn’t recognise me. Not even a flicker…

Who’s that?!

That’s Shaughnessy of course…

You’ve got to be kidding me?

Yeah, I was born in the wrong decade…

Of course I was far from the only one in costume, the rest of the team glimmered in their fringed gold and black, the guys in pinstripes and suspenders, and most of the guests wore headdresses and pearls that had been given out to them by the dining room.

The night went off without a hitch, at least as far as I could tell; smiles everywhere despite the fact that set up did cause us to be a minute or so late opening the doors 😉

Of course once it was all over, we all responded to a silent bell that had us clambering over chairs and onto tables to take all those lovely decorations down. One of these days I will have to get pictures of the tear-down process, as it’s hard to believe how quickly it goes. It takes at least two hours, sometimes more, to dress the ballroom, and less than 20 minutes to clear it back to its every-day state.

Once tear down was complete we did all traipse up to the after-party, though admittedly none of us stayed for long. By that point the guests were having such a good time on their own that it was hardly noticed when we silently slipped out the back way and within minutes – at least in my case – had hung the feathers, beads and fringe away for another season…

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Butterfly Kisses – Cape Town, South Africa – [04/01/2014]

Posted on April 2, 2014 by GypsyShaughnessy

I saved a life todbutterflykissesay.

Just a little life. A tiny one. Not even a person, but a life none-the-less.

I was getting ready to host one of the sporting events, on the inside pool deck. Only one person showed up, and I was chatting with him and my gaze strayed to the window..

Hey look! A butterfly!

Oh, he must be on the outside of the glass…

And I look a little closer and something seems off…so I go up to the window and crouch down so the butterfly is at eye level with me.

No sir, it’s inside! She must have flown in when the dome was still open! Poor thing is trapped.

You can’t catch a butterfly by hand, and even if you could move fast enough, you’d actually hurt them as even the lightest touch will rub the microscopic scales off their wings. Plus this poor creature was obviously terrified. Beating itself against the vast expanse of glass, obviously completely confused as to why it couldn’t get through to where it had come from. And this was a stunning creature, with a wingspan nearly the size of my open hand, it would have been easy just to sit and stare at it all day. But I couldn’t let her suffer, especially not a butterfly, never a butterfly…

So after the ping pong (such as it was) was over, I went up to the bar and asked for a pint glass and a plate, went back and knelt next to the window, and tried my very best to think of what my father would do. Y’see, my father has this gift with things – particularly birds – he can calm them down. I once saw him catch a terrified hummingbird with his bare hands. But even he – as far as I know – had never attempted to catch a butterfly without a net. So I took a very deep breath…and found myself talking to this creature who had no earthly way of understanding me…

Shh…just calm down, you’re going to break a wing doing that…

I managed to coax her onto the plate and tip the glass over top of her, her wingspan was so wide that she couldn’t properly spread her wings in there and I was worried the whole way down to the promenade deck that she was going to hurt herself trying to get free..

Shhh…please calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself…it’s okay, you’re okay now…

Eventually I got to the promenade deck and lifted the glass and watched her hover for a few minutes, clearly totally confused before she disappeared from view.

My Mum used to tell me a story, about two men walking along a beach, and one of them was constantly bending over to pick up starfish that had been stranded by low tide and toss them back into the ocean.

“Why do you keep doing that?” his companion says in frustration, “it’s not like it actually makes any difference!”

His friend shrugs, bends over and returns another starfish to the ocean..

“Well, it made a difference to that one didn’t it?”

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The Cup of a Carpenter – At Sea – [03/30/2014]

Posted on April 2, 2014 by GypsyShaughnessy

Cup“I wished only to welcome you to our town and to invite you to worship with us on Sunday.”

“Thank you very kindly sir, but actually we don’t attend…though we shall enjoy the singing of the bells…” ~ Chocolat.

Like Vianne Rocher with her mysterious chocolates, I do not choose to attend mainstream church. Though I was christened and occasionally taken to service clutching the hand of my grandmother, my own spiritual path led me down quite a different road. One that put me in a position to be much more likely to find faith in the music of the bells and the cries of gulls than in the words of man, no matter how inspired or beautiful. I am, at heart, in blood and bone, a Daughter of Diana, and I highly doubt that that will ever change.

In truth, while I have never disbelieved mainstream faith (I truly hold that belief makes reality, therefore if people believe in their own personal truth, then that truth is real for them, provides comfort for them, and who am I – or anyone else for that matter – to deny the power and comfort of real belief), and I have always respected the faith of another, I have never truly understood it. I’ve never quite understood why people seem so willing to subscribe to something that over the years seems to have made people so miserable…I’ve always known that there is beauty in faith, I’ve seen it in my own religion, in my own life, and in the lives of others like me. I’ve also seen that same faith bring great sorrow, and for a long time it has seemed the the sorrow outbalances the joy and that’s always made me wonder… “why” …why submit yourself to the concept of something so terribly judgemental and contradictory?

And then this morning, I – through a series of circumstances I did not quite intend – attended church. For what is probably the first time in about 10 years. As I have mentioned before, we have His Grace the Archbishop Desmond Tutu sailing with us this season, and it’s not precisely very often that one has the opportunity to witness a service given by such a man.

I won’t go into the duration of the service, it was beautifully done, but as always I felt like a hypocrite being there, as though I had a great glowing sign above my head saying “this woman is not one of you”…I know that organized religion is supposed to be all about acceptance, but I’m afraid to say that simply hasn’t been my experience. See my previous statement about reasons why I simply don’t “get” most organized religion.

But the entire two hour service was worth it for the very very last five or ten minutes.

In person the Archbishop is a very small person, tiny and frail and probably a good head shorter than me. He’s “wee”, which is a word I don’t use often, but I honestly do mean it as a compliment. He’s a good man. Even having not exchanged two words with him you can tell that he’s a good man.

At the end of the sermon, he and the gospel choir (the same ones that performed last night, and they really are quite incredible) are singing the final “amen”, and his voice is tiny and frail and well…old…but somehow incredibly powerful. And the rest of  the participants are singing in well…typical reserved church-goer style, more of a respectful murmer than an actual voice…and His Grace finishes the hymn, turns around, looks at the choir, looks back at us and says…

What you all so shy for?! Everyone stand up, all of you, stand up…

And we all stand up…and he looks at all of us and says

Now, we gonna sing this…like we MEANS it…

And there’s a collective nervous laugh, and the choir starts again and suddenly, as if given permission, everyone in that room is singing for real, and people are crying…

And in that five minutes. I got it. I mean, not in the sense that I’m about to go out and convert, not that kind of “I get it”…but…I get why people go to church, I get what it’s supposed to be. I get that same energy lift when I wade into the ocean, when I walk through a forest, or when I heard the bells ring in Siciliy. That sense of being something, of belonging to something…

Yeah…I get it.

And whether I believe in what it stands for or not, or support everything that has been done in its name or not, well…that’s a good thing.

So here’s what I think: “I think we can’t go around judging ourselves and others by what we don’t do, what we deny ourselves, and who we exclude. I think we need to focus on what we do , how we rejoice and who we include…” (Chocolat)

God bless
Goddess bless
Namaste
And all the rest

 

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Folks Like Me – Durban, South Africa – [03/28/2014]

Posted on April 2, 2014 by GypsyShaughnessy

PrepworkIf March is always the hardest point of the GWV, the hardest point of March is always the week when the big bosses come.

Once a season the CEO of the line comes aboard to host a Q&A, award the various medallions for the guests who have been sailing with us for an astonishingly large number of days, and to host various meet n’ greets and cocktail parties for said guests. For the guests themselves, it’s an honour, a chance to have their questions answered and in a lot of ways just one big formal party for a few days.

Behind the scenes and below the waterline? The ship thrums with the extra pressure of having our bosses’ boss onboard. Our already high standards are pushed even higher and at the end of the day we’re all very happy to see our own four walls. And this season there’s an extra layer added to all of this, because it’s not just our CEO who’s aboard…his boss, the CEO of the entire parent company, is also onboard. The uber-boss, someone who is so high up on the corporate food chain that someone like me is nothing more than a teeny tiny little bug on the windshield…trust me, you’ve never felt more like a cog in the wheel than when this level of executive is sailing with you.

And, in case that wasn’t already enough, in addition to the big bosses…we also have a rather exalted guest speaker onboard with us this season.

An Archbishop.

Nope, I am not even remotely kidding. His Grace the Archbishop Desmond Tutu is sailing with us, with his family, as a guest speaker until we arrive in Cape Town in three days’ time. Needless to say, this is a great honour for all of us and a once in a life time experience and opportunity for many of the guests. His speaking events are ticketed, with half the guests assigned to go on the first day and the other half the next. Crew has been invited to attend either day as long as there is room for us as obviously things like this are primarily for the passengers though we are far from excluded. Personally I know that while the historian in me would love to be witness to such an event, it’s unlikely that I will be able to attend for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is scheduling.

But yes, the corporate circus has well and truly come to town…and the best we can all do is just keep our heads down, do our jobs to the standards we always do, and hope not to get noticed all that much…

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Whiter Shade of Pale – At Sea – [03/21/2014

Posted on March 21, 2014 by GypsyShaughnessy

2013 Literary Pin Up Calendar_4At long last I got to wear my dearly purchased white dress!

Walking into the White Dinner After Party felt sort of like walking into a wedding reception! You very rarely see so much white in one place! It looked…oddly heavenly!

This will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me even remotely well – but even though I love my white cocktail dress (has all the hallmarks of a ‘magic’ dress that one does, I suspect it will be added to my ‘this dress goes with me on every contract no matter what’ list) – my pride and joy tonight wasn’t the dress.

It was the shoes.

Seriously! You have white capezios?!

Yup.

Do you know how hard those are to find??

*grin* yup

I have worn my white capezio character shoes all of three times since I bought them, including tonight. They’re almost impossible to find. They’re still so new that they pinch the backs of my heels for the first few hours as even after years of owning them they’re not completely broken in. But they are killer good for the dance floor because they still have the original leather soles. Technically the dance hosts onboard are not supposed to dance with us, they’re supposed to be completely dedicated to dancing with the guests; usually I put my foot down and say ‘no I’m sorry I can’t’…but I happened to know that this particular gentleman can actually lead. And I had on a pretty dress and and…and I was wearing shoes that he could literally swivel me and I would do the twist without having to take a step..(trust me, that’s a really cool thing to be able to do).

Yeah…

You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?

So I’ve been told…

But it was just once dance. I didn’t dare for more than that because both of us could potentially have gotten in trouble.

Unfortunately the sudden onslaught of a killer headache prevented me from taking in the rest of the evening. When you start seeing those nasty jags of light in front of your eyes and even the dim lights of the ballroom hurt it’s time to get yourself back to your cabin and take an aspirin…but by that point the party was winding down anyway.

Y’know they say that white is supposed to be the symbol of purity…

I say that’s an interesting choice for a party ship-side 😉

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Top o’ The Mornin’ – At Sea – [03/17/2014]

Posted on March 20, 2014 by GypsyShaughnessy

morninWhen you work ship-side, there’s not really such a thing as a ‘quiet’ holiday. Back when I lived a shore-bound life, St Patrick’s Day in our house was much like it probably is in Ireland. When I was just a wee one we used to decorate for it, mostly because my Gran always had and because I was a huge fan of any kind of decorations when I was a kid, but as I got older it became just another day in red on the calendar. I’d remember to wear green so that no one pinched me at school – but inwardly, I think the actual Irish blood I carry faint traces of rebelled at the sight of everyone and anyone sporting shamrocks and brazen buttons that boldly declared ‘Kiss me I’m Irish’…when it was quite blatantly obvious that they weren’t.

I’m strange that way I suppose.

That said, once you’re out here? The rules change, and the wearin’ o’ the green goes back to becoming an excuse for the guests to have a shamrock laden party. And well…what a party it was truth be told.

Let’s just say this: I make a damn cute leprechaun.

I was ever so slightly nervous when I was first handed the outfit. I mean for the past three seasons I’ve gotten away with wearing nothing more ‘costume’ like than my pale green oriental cocktail dress. Pair that with green jewelry and gold shoes and it works just fine. This year though? I walked into the office to see a small ocean of green sequins in the form of the jackets we had been loaned from the dining room department. Delving into the bottom of the stack I managed to emerge with one of what I swear was only three smalls, and was delighted to find that not only did it fit…it looked…good. The dark green of the ridiculously glitzy jacket contrasted with the pale green of the dress and looked almost as if I’d matched them together on purpose. I took one look at the bowties (white with green letting that did proudly declare ‘Kiss me: I’m Irish”), shook my head and, with the careful use of a few properly placed bobbypins, transformed it from bowtie to hair-decoration. By the end of a half hour of pre-time I felt rather like I should be passing out Lucky Charms cereal but it did come together well.

Though I was invited to take part in the Irish Pub crawl, my work schedule meant I had to decline. I did however, traipse up to the upstairs lounge for the after party, where I joined my equally leprechaun-like colleagues to dance, clink glasses, and allow the guests to take crazy photographs of us.

This job…sometimes I just have to do the strangest things for this job!

At least they let me keep the bow!

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A Sporting Chance – Colombo, Sri Lanka – [03/15/2014]

Posted on March 20, 2014 by GypsyShaughnessy

1One of the things that’s unique about the flagship is that the entire entertainment team somewhat does…everything…when we’re assigned IPM (normally IPM just means you stay on the ship and work your normal hours…whatever those may be…here? Not so much).

Hence why today found me out on the sports deck in the burning Sri Lankan sunshine, cheering on passengers as they attempted to land a pickle-ball into a series of hoola hoops laid out on the court (and here y’all thought my job was so glamorous!)

In all honesty, I really don’t mind running sporting activities. I only have to do it on port days and it’s a chance to get to know a group of passengers who wouldn’t otherwise cross paths with me; and they’re usually the most fun loving people on board. The nice thing is, once you’ve run the events a few times you get to know all the people who come on port days, and they get to know you, so if you’re in a situation where it’s overly hot out or when they know you don’t feel well or desperately want to get ashore for a few minutes to snag that last trinket from the souvenior shop – they’ll just give you a wink wink nudge nudge and suddenly the event will run at lightning speed…

Yeah, we have a nice group of guests on board for the most part, even if the technology gremlins drive us all crazy once in a while.

That said, the gremlins do appear for the most part to have been appeased the last few days (perhaps we should have offered them prize vouchers!) and life onboard continues to have settled down to the usual daily lull. Sherra has been and gone, leaving in her wake a librarian who is ever so slightly wrung out from fitting three years’ worth of catch up into 6 zinfandel tinted evenings (Sherra…is a bad influence, don’t let her tell you otherwise!) and we’re now well past the half-way point of the season…after all, my own contract will be winding to a close in May, and that’s really not that far off when you take a good long look at the calendar.

It feels odd to not know precisely where I’m going after this. I know my next ship true, but not necessarily the one after that, and that’s a strange feeling because for nearly four years now I’ve proceeded forward knowing precisely where my steps are going to take me. My waterlogged life has become…to use a term I detest…predictable, and all that may now be changing…and the crazy thing is? I’m coming to realize that that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

After all, there’s nothing bad about a sporting chance at the unknown…

 

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Hefellumps! – Padong Bay, Thailand – [03/11/2014]

Posted on March 11, 2014 by GypsyShaughnessy

Thailand53As many of you may remember, my attempt at ‘Shaughnessy’s Exciting Elephant Adventure’ last season was derailed by the angry and slightly scary Phuket Taxi “union” (*cough*mafia*cough*) – who blockaded the crew tour bus into the port and refused to let us depart.

This was I suspect – though I have no actual confirmation – one of the reasons the flagship ported in Padong Bay this season instead of in Phuket ‘proper’, not to mention the fact that this is a much nicer port, with miles and miles of white sand beaches and clear water that’s well worth the fact that it’s a tender port instead of a docked.

Whatever the reason for the change in anchorage, our HRM decided to give the crew tour another go, and the flyer came out announcing it a few weeks ago. In total, 17 of us tumbled into two waiting mini-buses for the 45 minute right out to the elephant camp.

To be honest, I was a little nervous about this excursion, I’ve heard terrible things about how some camps treat these beautiful animals; but this particular establishment is more of a sanctuary than anything, and the elephants we interacted with showed no signs of fear or abuse and their trainers treated them exceptionally well. While they did have elephant hooks, the only time I ever saw them used was as a gentle guide (almost like you would tug on a puppy’s leash) to make them go in the right direction – most of the direction was given by voice commands and normal touch (our guides during the actual ride used their heels to give commands, just like you would on a horse). I never once saw an animal struck. I can’t, of course, speak to what may or may not occur when out of public view – but you can tell a lot from the behaviour of the animals, and these creatures did not show any signs of being abused either in appearance or demeanour.

The only time I’d ever ridden an elephant was when I went to the circus when I was seven or eight years old and all I really remember about it is that my mother was furious because someone cut in front of me in line after we’d been waiting for 15 minutes (it’s really strange the things you remember) – so I wasn’t exactly prepared for the experience. For one thing, in this case we weren’t actually on the elephant’s back directly; we were seated in these palanquin style benches on top instead. The benches were comfortable enough, but the safety bars were pretty high up (as in you could rest your elbows on them quite comfortably instead of them being low across your lap like a seatbelt) so whenever the elephant went downhill you had the feeling you had to hang on for dear life or you were going to slide off right over his ears!

The elephant ride wasn’t actually the only activity of the day, there were also all sorts of really interesting demonstrations on local cooking (how they make coconut oil, how they de-husk rice etc etc) and a ride in a buffalo-pulled ‘tuktuk’ which kind of made me feel like we should have been going on a hayride!

Yup yup yup…one more thing off my bucket list!

Posted in Grand World Voyage 2014, Ports of Call | 1 Comment

In Betweens – At Sea – [03/09/2014]

Posted on March 11, 2014 by GypsyShaughnessy

I sweholdingmagicsmar we have more sea days on this cruise than ever before. Over 70 of them!  Which is great for the passengers but can get slightly wearing for us…sea day are a heckuva lot more work than ports! Especially since we’re lucky enough to have such good ports on this run that the ship turns into a ghost town (I swear I had about a dozen patrons during our overnight in Singapore!)

Sometimes I think I spend so much time around the ocean that it’s a wonder I don’t just sprout scales and be finished with it!

At any rate; as of March 1st we are officially half way through the world cruise – and April is now barreling towards us full force. Five more days and we’ll be halfway through March! No one is quite sure where the time has gone, especially since the beginning of this season was not the smoothest of voyages.

Thankfully, things seem to have righted themselves and I’ve taken a few big steps away from the edge of that big dark spiky pit I was teetering on the edge of (and who am I kidding, we were all on the edge of it, not just me!) and while there are still – and always will be – some “problem children”, some people who you just can’t please, the overall atmosphere onboard really has drastically swung up since Manila.

One more sea day and then we’ll be in Thailand, where I will once again be attempting to complete “Shaughnessy’s great and amazing Elephant Riding Adventure”- which, as you may or may not recall – was shut down by the eeeeevil Phuket taxi mafia last season. There are a few of us signed up who were there last year, and I suspect I’m not the only one who’s a little nervous! I’ll believe it’s actually going through when I get out of the port…but none the less I have faith.

I also have a near empty library, something that has become quite common for the early evening, and which is truly a relief since the day is usually so busy.

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