thespcicifcocean

so my partner is a harry potter fan, from back when What's Her Face wasn't obviously a trashy person. i would just like to preface this by stating that i don't condone the ideas that What's Her Face espouses, we don't buy the merch, we pirated the movies and any of her books in my library had been bought from a used book store which resells donated books.

So in the books, there's a reference to a "butter beer" the kids drink. I'm thinking that this is non-alcoholic as in a ginger beer, or at least not super strong. I wanted to try to make a batch for my partner as a special surprise.

I'm planning on making a batch of this next in the style of an american cream ale with vienna malt as the base, 10% oat and 10% corn flakes, to give it a heavy mouth feel, and adding some vanilla extract and nutmeg for the flavor.

Has anyone here made this before, and if so, how did it go? Any pitfalls to watch out for?

I was once a warrior, red in tooth and in claw. I was once fearless. The pounding of our relentless feet against our foes still resonates with me. I still remember the scent of blood in the air, I yearn for it and despise it as a sailor yearns for and despises the sea. I remember the baying of the pack. My pack. Us. I remember the fell voices of my comrades, teeth bared. I remember the man’s gun, though I don’t understand it. The boar would always die upon hearing that terrible roar and smelling that foul scent. Sometimes with a cry, sometimes without. But we knew that when the gun again fell silent, the day’s wonderful and terrible battle would be over.

I was once a warrior.

I remember the cold of the moist ground between my toes, the way it would give just a little under my weight as I bounded through the trees. I remember the smell of the wet woods in autumn. I was alone when I found the sow, laying on her side, her young all about her, some suckling, some sleeping. She let out a cry and stood immediately to her feet. The cry was met with a long howling bark from away in the trees. My pack would soon arrive and we would kill the sow and we would go home and get extra dinner and maybe some head pats. The sow, of course, knew of our intentions, knew that we were all killers. But she too, was a warrior, red in tusk and in hoof. The baying approached. The sow bent low her head. My teeth bared, my fur upon my neck and back stood on end. I didn’t want to fight alone. I’d seen what a sow protecting her young could do. But if she had to charged, I would have to fight. She bellowed a guttural, low growl. Her young, blindly rooting at her feet, still searching for a teat. A momentary glance to the squeaker was all it took, one fraction of a second of divided attention, and the sow charged.

The pain was unlike anything I’d experienced. I caught the scent of blood. The shrieks and moans from the sow deafened me, I couldn’t hear my own cries of pain and terror, anger and agony. She had gored me. Kicked me. I hadn’t had time to fight back. I began to feel very tired, I tried and tried to fight. I grabbed some thick fur in my mouth, but didn’t get through to the flesh beneath. It became dark and I became more tired. I had fallen somehow. The sow continued to trample and gore my side as I lay dying. I fell asleep then.

I dreamed of pain, and my pack barking and killing. Of the man’s gun and of a boar’s death cry. I dreamed of my pack, lapping at the blood from my side. I dreamed of being nuzzled by my friend, as if I was sick. I dreamed of my man, the truck and the bumpy road. I dreamed of a white light and of darkness. When I awoke, I was at a place I thought I knew. It was no longer the forest. It was quiet and dark, though the scent of blood and chemicals and medicine permeated through the blackness. My side and my chest hurt. I tried to stand, but my legs could not hold. I fell again. I was vaguely aware of a familiar sound, a man talking. Not my man, though. This was the other man, the one with the treats and medicine.

There was a pinch on my back leg, I yelped, more in surprise than pain. Then the man said something, it sounded good. Like I was a good girl. I couldn’t tell though, the sound was muffled, as if I were submerged beneath meters of thick water. I became heavy and the pain went away. I could have died then. I could have gone quietly away, like the others. I could have accepted death then as my fate: felled in battle.

Fear overtook me then. I tried to stand, to run. But I could not. My muscles all failed. There was another sound by the man, deeper and farther away. In fear, I succumbed to the blackness. A warrior I was no more.

Took a break from picking for a few years, feels good to pop this lock open again

This might be the dumbest thing I've asked out loud. But I'm really interested in how the measles virus causes immune system amnesia, and if that specific aspect of the measles virus might be able to treat autoimmune disorders.

obviously, this has the drawback that the patients would be infected with measles. but would their immune system stop attacking their own body?

Hear me out, measles can cause immune system amnesia. People with autoimmune disorders have immune systems that want to kill them. What if we use the immune system amnesia property of measles to reset the immune system of people suffering with autoimmune disorders? Maybe we could do some crispr on the measles virus to make it not as dangerous or something like that first though.

For the past few days I've been having pain in my chest and neck. It feels tight and like a bunch of pressure on my chest. I was worried enough to go to the ER for it yesterday. My resting HR was 104 and blood pressure was 130/95 when i got into the hospital. It lowered while waiting for the doctor to see me. They did an ECG and a blood test.

Doc says my ECG looked normal, but they had to redo my blood test because my troponin levels were at "7". They said that I didn't have a heart attack, but when I'm researching troponin levels, anything above a 4 is indicative of damage to the heart.

I also told the doc that i have depression and anxiety. he chalked it up as anxiety attacks.

At this point, does it sound like I should go see a cardiologist?