Monika Blogwell

After a long day, I came home tonight to a package. Immediately, my day improved.

Inside was a set of coasters.

I know coasters don’t sound like the most exciting thing in the world, but for me, these are a delight.

Patrick and I knew we needed coasters for our coffee table. The top is glass, and water rings show up easily. But we wanted something unique. Something that reflects our style. Something that represents us.

How can you jam so much quirkiness into a thing that’s sole function is to act as barrier between drink and table?

The answer:

I ordered these lovely little things from the Etsy shop MeadowTea. The coasters are particularly perfect for us because Patrick and I met when we both DJ’ed for our college radio station. Our shared taste in music was, in part, the catalyst for our relationship. Eventually, after we started dating, we had our own radio show together (it was called “Be My Molecule”). We had about two listeners.

While we’ve never made each other actual mix tapes, the sentiment is right. We speak to each other through music.

And after a long day, I now have the perfect spot to put my wine.

Today I caught myself singing Hanson in my car. Old school Hanson. They weren’t on the radio or on my iPod. Without any prompting, I felt the urge to belt out “Man From Milwaukee” in the private safety of The Little Blue Gem. (There’s nothing safe or private about the Blogosphere, though, so I guess the secret is out now.)

Patrick and I had an interesting discussion the other day about the way the music you once loved can never really leave your system. If you really, really LOVE a song or an artist, you’ll always love it. I can’t think of a song that I used to like in my younger days that doesn’t still strike a chord in me when I hear it today.

Music is nostalgic. It is visceral. It conjures up memories. It makes you dance like Snoopy. When you love something, it never really leaves you, even if you feel ashamed about ever having loved it in the first place. Am I embarrassed that as a 13-year-old I sobbed like a baby when my VHS tape of Hanson clips got taped over? A little. But Middle of Nowhere got me through my awkward middle school years, and I’ll always hold a special place in my heart for those three blonde brothers.