HOW MOLTENADE CAME TO BE

An incandescent, neon, highlighter-blue bottle of lemonade guaranteed to rot my teeth off. I wanted it.

Since being wrenched from campus, my final quarter as a senior, and pandemic-stuffed backed into my high school existence, my 18-year home and school in one (side effect of homeschooling), similar to Jafar at the end of Aladdin (1992) when he discovers that becoming a genie means being put on indefinite house arrest in tiny lamp, I've struggled. And I've got it good - the best parents, a roof over my head, home-cooked food, and high-speed Internet. I'm living the American stay-at-home dream, really. I'm very lucky. And yet, coexisting with these blessings, my mind can get trapped in small spaces.

So one day, I was at Safeway, buying groceries (there was a great deal on corn), and as I strolled up and down the isles, because there's no better window shopping than at a grocery store, I finally made it to that forbidden isle - the cooler isle with all the single-bottle drinks lining the shelves. (Forbidden, because buying one bottle of caramel-colored coffee for $5 when you could buy a 12-pack for $9.99 at Costco is what my mother, and every mother, calls "a scam.") 

So as I strolled down the forbidden isle, feeling grown-up, I passed this incandescent, neon, highlighter-blue bottle of lemonade guaranteed to rot my teeth off. And I wanted it. I thought it was awesome.

So I reached out, picked it off the highest shelf, and stuck in my basket. A bright blue child's dream wedged between ears of corn. But as I walked toward the self-checkout, basket in hand, I started thinking: it's probably gonna rot your teeth off. It's, like, $4, which is $3 too much. You've had a lot sugar lately, and this is at least two or three candy bars. Remember that one PSA with the cans of Coke next to the sugar cubes? That, but nuke it to turn blue. And it's gonna stain your mouth for ages - you're gonna look like you made out with a Smurf. And it's $4. Which is $3 too much.

So I turned tail, went back to the drink isle, and stuck it back on the shelf. I bought my corn, drove home, shucked the corn, and steamed it, ate a cobb with my family, did the dishes, and went to bed. And the entire time, all I thought about was that blue bottle of lemonade.

I really didn't need the lemonade. I'm glad I have some self-control. But the highlighter-blue bottle was something the 13-year-old (and now 23-year-old) Noelle would have loved - childish, kind of silly, a little dumb, kind of a non-useful decision in the long run, but totally delightful. Also, something 13-year-old (and now 22-year-old) Noelle wouldn't, and didn't, get.

What are the things that I've kept myself from doing that aren't necessarily the smartest or most profitable decision, but would have made me happy? Brought me stupid, kind of dumb, delight?

Moltenade ("molten" for the way I see the sky, "-nade" for, well, I hope you've gotten that part of the story by now) is the product of something I simply want to do. And it fills me with so much delight. Art and sharing it with others fills me with so much delight. And I hope you might delight as well, and maybe pick up your own bottle of lemonade some time. We can drink them together.