A normal day

OK... here is the thing: Somehow there is always something going on with us that makes me feel like we should have a reality TV show. I guess I have come to grips with the fact that we are not the average household, and that every day there is yet another thing to add to the list.
Yesterday morning we walked out of the house to drive Manolo to work. It was one of the lucky days where our schedules allow me to drop him off, take the car to my job, be done with work before him, so that I can go pick him up at night again.
As soon as I pulled out of our parking spot we noticed that the car was making a strange sound. I pulled over, Manolo leaned out of his door and saw that the right rear tire was completely flat. Damn...! We decided to drive around the corner to the gas station and put on the spare. Here we were... Both dressed for work, him almost late as it was, and neither one of us too eager to get our hands dirty. We got out, looked at the tire, looked at each other and battled each other with intense looks over who would do the honors. Of course... minutes into our mechanic- work a small audience stood by; probably putting down bets on our ability to complete the manly task. But I have to say; at times my own butch-ness surprises me, and we got it done without a single stain on either one of our shirts or pants.
All was well, I dropped our flat tire at the car dealer and went to the bank for Manolo. Since he works basically from eight AM to eight PM every day, he tends to ask me to run certain errands for him, that he should (legally) probably do himself. Every time I am about to do any of this stuff in his name, I get a little nervous about it... almost like I am doing something I shouldn't.
So... I got to the bank with this slightly nervous feeling in my stomach, approached the little table where you fill out the slips as I hear a bank employee ask "what brings you in today?" I told him what I was here for, and he asked me to let him help me with the transaction. I hate that... because now I have to pretend to be Manolo with a person in an office, and not only through the teller where all you do is exchange papers. I sat down, handed him Manolo's papers, he looked at me (oh... by the way - clearly a Latino) and said Manolo's full name. But he didn't really just SAY his name... he pronounced it in perfect Spanish, and literally added a question mark right after it. As little pearls of sweat appeared on my forehead, and a much too long pause needed to get filled with some kind of a response, I answered: "Si... Ola." For the ones of you who watch "Will and Grace" you might know how Karen talks to Rosario sometimes in "Spanish" with this horrific English accent. Yep... that was me. "Si... Oulaa".
I could not wait to get out of this place! Not only was I sweating profusely; I also tend to blush easily, which doesn't make things any better. It was altogether just a very tense morning.
In the evening we had our first class of the new quarter. Color Theory. Every first class of every new course we take is always a little intense for me. You never know what the teacher is gonna be like... or how the atmosphere will be, what the other people are like... and of course - there is the moment I dislike the most: Everybody has to introduce themselves and say a few words about why they are taking the class. I can't stand it. I guess people would assume that as a performer I wouldn't mind it, but don't forget that I was trained to dance... every step was rehearsed and well practiced, and the roles are very clearly assigned: I am here to dance, you are here to watch. In a class, I am not here to talk! I haven't rehearsed!!!!!!
Anyway; As I am listening to one by one talk about themselves (mind you... I am more concentrated on counting how many more people there are until I have to speak), the room just turns into this sort of competition about who is serious about it and who is just here to have fun. It is all about impressing the teacher and talking about ... "my decorator got me interested in design after she did my 35 room beach mansion" and stuff like that. The room just got more and more stuffy by the minute.
And... god bless Manolo. He was in line right before me, leaned forward and said: "Hello; my name is Manolo and I'm an alcoholic". Everybody turned around and cracked up laughing as he started looking around and said "oh... sorry! It's not that meeting!" He got serious, started talking about how we were both dancers and started taking classes last quarter, and that we have learned a lot so far. The teacher asked us which classes we took............. BLANK. We came up with two of the courses, but could not - for the life of us - remember the third course. In a panic to not appear like total idiots I turned it into a joke and said (laughing) "we REALLY learned a lot, haven't we?"
It was so cool to see how breaking out of the "norm" can really break the ice, and I have to say that Manolo is just so good and smart about how to make people comfortable and relaxed. The rest of the class was a lot of fun... people had a great time, laughed and we all enjoyed ourselves.
Anyway... I have a day off tomorrow (although - at night we are starting another course: Construction Materials). I am not sure if we should bring hard hats...!? Maybe a little "Village people" couldn't hurt to get things going there!? We'll see. I'll let you know how it went.