I have moved too many times for a non-military person and most people are confused on where I actually live. I dipped my whole self for years in the beast that is the American church and then completely undipped myself; now my feet are slightly wet and you will hear that sentiment woven throughout my words. I am an expert at nothing. I am a frequent non-finisher of projects, but somehow an over-exerter in life.The only marathon I ever ran I did two extra miles because my phone died and so did my pride.
It’s a place for my inner thoughts to escape a bit into the outer world. I hope you find my inner life exactly as it is to me: funny, weird, lame, special, authentic, relatable, and a bunch of other high school level English adjectives that make me sound interesting. My life is a bit messy underneath, much like my home: clean on the outside, but do not open the closets or drawers lest you want the truth. I have a cute family whom I feature often in my writing. I have extended family who are spread all over the place and will be more secretly featured as to maintain good relationships and a yearly invite to the beach house.
Hi There.
I’m Ruby and this is Airplane Milk.
At the ripe age of 36, our little family decided to move across the Atlantic Ocean to the land of the French speakers, the chain smokers, and the fashion elite. Bless my family as they speak this wild language where the s is thrown on to the end of words for shits and giggles because Lord knows it is rarely meant to make something plural.
As I tackled this romance language, I would often make mistakes when ordering at cafes. I frequented one spot in my neighborhood and confidently ordered my drink by saying “Je voudrais une latte avec lait avion.” Forget all the other mistakes in the sentence, the glaring issue was with the type of milk. I mixed up avoine (oat) and avion (airplane). I’ve never had airplane milk, but I can imagine it’s very special and very past its prime as all food served on a plane tends to be.
The server corrected me, nicely. My cheeks flushed and I tried to laugh it off. Except living in a foreign country and learning a language is hard and when things get difficult, I turn to comedy and self-pity. So I laughed at myself, pretended to go back to writing something important and instead jotted down the idea for this little joint. Airplane Milk was born because I drink coffee with alternative milks while eating food covered in cheese. I hope you find laughter here, Internet Friend.
“Dearest Ruby, why Airplane Milk?”
Good question, Internet Friend.
