Now initially you might think you don't need or even want to know about
butyrate (ˈbjuːtɪˌreɪt) noun,
any salt or ester of butyric acid, containing the monovalent group C3H7COO- or ion C3H7COO–, and when you then bumped into this, having first found out it is in butter, you might well panic:
Examples of butyrate in a Sentence
Recent Examples on the Web
Clear plastic screwdriver handles are usually made from cellulose acetate butyrate, a material developed in the 1930s.
— Roy Berendsohn, Popular Mechanics, "Why Do My Old Plastic Screwdriver Handles Stink?," 8 Oct. 2017
But then you would realize that lately it has had a great rise in reputation and helps maintain your biodome and aids in the production of key neurotransmitters that help both our gut and our brains to work. Apparently we make it when bacteria in our bellies ferment high fibre carbohydrates, but it is also, and here is the punchline, found in butter! The highest food source for it. I am relieved, and think I will just butter up everything!
At least these verbose scientist think so:
The neuropharmacology of butyrate: The bread and butter of the microbiota-gut-brain axis?
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Excellent Xty. My particular paradigm precluded those pleasing possibilities. This might be a reach……….
Yeah, just imagine. You hop in your motor home for a road trip, just like many times before, and come home to blue tarps covering the subfloor. Awful. Maybe worse than actually being there.
And that canoe had to come down somewhere. The betting was probably out in the middle of the Mud Lake marsh. If that storm had stayed down, or come back down, the line was right across the marsh, then right to town, and right to my house. John was 6 months old. I had raced home in the car, and could see a bad storm off that way. I got home and got the garage door closed just as a helluva gale hit. A few minutes later the phone rang and it was my brother.
I put the kid back in the car and went out there. Like i said, like a bomb went off. I left the kid there with my brother, still in his car seat (clear blue skies by then) and raced back home to make a few phone calls. When I went back, the cops by then had blocked off the road and wouldn’t let me in. I explained that it was my own parents house, plus my kid was in there and I had to get back in. They stood firm, and scolded me for bringing him in there in the first place. What should I have done? Left him home alone? Lugged him back and forth? So anyway, I raced around a few miles to another access point and got through that way, so it was OK.
Could be worse. A friend of mine I used to work with, her house burned down. Burned to the ground. And killed their dog. With my folks, a lot of stuff was saved. Maybe a little cracked, mildewy, and full of insulation, but still saved. My friend came home to nothing but ashes.
Loss is one of the key things that induces hoarding, at least according to my scientific research conducted on TLC, and I understand why. Wanting two of everything, keeping anything just in case, seeing all your stuff all around you like a huge safety blanket. But a fire would probably be the worst. The cottage next to ours down the river kind of blew up when lightening arced to their propane tank. The new pressure treated stairs at the front were basically all that remained. We had friends up and were watching the storm from our front porch and heard a boom and saw a flash in the narrows. And I don’t know quite how she knew but a neighbour was along in seconds from further up the river, where they have a fire pump (distributed around the community) and said we should consider that the whole shore might go up – now we didn’t seriously consider this, but we sure hopped in our whaler with all the kids to see what was up and the whole thing was over really in about twenty minutes. The firemen did get there and scorned the local pump but then couldn’t get their’s working. They cut down a big circle of trees to prevent the spread and the place was destroyed. They sold and never came back.
I forgot to mention that they weren’t there.
My brother (this is the same guy with all the health problems) and his wife and her mum basically live like hoarders now. Maybe this is partially why, but I sense that she is at least as much to blame. They try to at least keep an open path through the rooms. Last year they finally gave up any pretense of being able to clean up enough to take their turn hosting a family holiday dinner. That will never happen again.
I remember that disaster. A thanksgiving to forget. All you can do us host them and show them how it is done.
The Christmas my dad ended up in a coma for literally Christmas eve [otherwise known as my birthday, more importantly] and Christmas, but failed to perish and slowly came back to 80% over months and months, we used to refer to as “The Late Great Unpleasantness”.
Is this finally American thanksgiving coming up, speaking of which? I want to put up Christmas lights but figure it should only be done on the horribly named Black Friday, while I don’t rip out someone’s gizzard getting to the latest greatest whatchamacallit, all in the spirit of Christmas.
Yes, Thanksgiving is this week, Thursday. My sister is hosting (we have Christmas), but my brother and family aren’t even coming this year, with the gout and IV treatments and all. We’ll see about Christmas.
In our family, it seems like it’s all the women who love to shop Black Friday, while it’s all the men who would rather not leave the house, would rather stay off the roads entirely, on that day. We stay home and get fat on leftovers. 😀
red and green stickies, and white. actually they are peanut butter cookies. i forgot to press the first batch. the powdered sugar didn’t work out too well either, but it kept the fork from sticking.
Wednesday is not striking a musical chord with me. I must be missing my muse … where did I put that damned thing?
Good morning and I will be back when I find it!
Here you go.
Too soon? Sorry. Just hit mute and watch the fire then.
The following article highlights the major point in the markets these days. All time highs. All the time.
This is a fundamental psychological litmus test. No amount of data, or argument, or propaganda, is going to change one’s mind about this. You are either conditioned to buy it, or sell it. There’s no in-between. The decision is hardwired into our brains.
As for me, I buy strength and sell weakness. Don’t Fight The Tape. (Bitchez…. 😎 )
http://thereformedbroker.com/2014/11/26/the-brutal-monotony-of-all-time-highs/
One of my favorite bull market songs…
Meanwhile, the heathen continue to rage over at places like ZH. It’s just funny as hell.
where’s peckerwood?
Hello!
It’s the night b4 Turkey Day, and all our little dumplings are back in the nest!
This makes Mrs. O happy, and as you all know, when Mrs. O is happy, everybody is happy!
that was probably too easy. now if i could only find a song for Woden’s day.
i just whirly popped some popcorn. Mrs. P is happy.
where’s peckerwood now?
and what about the Dude?
I am going to make an executive decision and move the previous two Thanksgiving comments forward to my belated, just like your Thanksgiving, post.