It’s a Friday afternoon that followed a health matters-filled Friday morning and a self-pity soaked Thursday afternoon and evening.  My rheumatologist visit was simultaneously scary, upsetting, guarded, and hopeful. It shook me more than is typical but that in itself is unsurprising.  As of late, I seem to be unable to turn off that un-maintained county road full of potholes, bumps, and washboard ridges.  Yet, popping up around the bend, hanging out by the bushes, and waiting for me on an illuminated computer screen are a loyal set of friends, friends whom, with one grand exception, I have never met in all their corporeal goodness.  I met these new friends here on Open Salon and feel fortunate to have done so.  As J.D. succinctly pointed out on a recent post, I’m feelin’ the love.

Because of this grand experiment called Open Salon, I am now blessed with a support group I didn’t have before, a gathering unaffiliated with my mother or neighbor or old college buddy that I can spill my proverbial guts to without worrying (for now at least) that it will filter back to the wrong ears.  I have virtual friends who, when I seek help with a problem or need common sense where I am lacking, write to me both publicly and privately and give positive assurances and constructive suggestions.

Realizing the danger of sounding simultaneously schmaltzy and self-aggrandizing, I am fortunate to be one of you and blessed (in a feel-good secular way) to have been one of the pioneers of Open Salon.  I raise my ice water to you all (alcohol and methotrexate do not mix) and call a hearty “Sláinte Mhath” to one and all.  To health and happiness!