You know the old saying that you end up marrying your father and becoming your mother? And how you fight this tooth and nail, determined not to turn into them, even if they raise you well and you turned out alright? (Sorry Mom & Gary - it's for the sake of my writing!)
While I can only do so much to not turn into my mother - I'm a graphic designer, she's a lawyer, but we're the same height, etc - I thought I was doing pretty well when I married a Mexican guy. My dad's not American either - he's Dutch - but he's a big burly guy with an anchor tattoo and a business degree. And he's a boat captain.
My husband is barely five and a half feet tall (although, if you ask him, he's pushing six feet) and has what I call a soccer-player's physique. He's a carpenter and electrician, and has no tattoos.
Pretty different right?
Well, I was just folding the laundry and thinking about the new position he starts Friday when it hit me: his new job is el capitan de maseros. Waiters' captain.
What? How did I not see this coming?
I know the two are hardly the same. Beyond the title, they couldn't be more different. Nonetheless, if anyone asks me what jobs the men in my life hold I can cover both with the same word.
I may as well break out the law books - I've become my parents.