Update

Welcome to the 3rd Issue of our community magazine! This magazine is only one aspect of this community. We have irc chat, message boards, a member's photo album, a free banner exchange and several projects in the works. Our membership is growing by the day with womyn who are looking for more on the net than just a place to hang out occasionally. At Amaranth Womyn we encourage all of our members, who have the time and energy, to get involved.

After careful consideration and a quasi-voting system, we have decided that in order to maintain quality over quantity, we will change this magazines' publishing schedule from twice a month, to once monthly. The new issues will be released during the first week of each month. Additionally, we will be adding more pages and more works from our members and guests alike. In fact, there is just no telling what surprises may pop up in our September issue!

On another note, we are always seeking womyn who write stories, poetry, journalistic reviews and reports, and the list goes on. Please submit your works to us for publication! As it is, I was never supposed to be writing on this very page!

We hope you will enjoy this months issue and remember to stop back next month to see what's new!

Wacipi, Editor

The Crone Laughs by Mercy

Hear all about it! was the subject of the eMail that I began to write to a friend who had inquired as to what I had been doing.

Well with that lead, there should be most exciting news to impart. But I am afraid I was being a bit of a tease LOL Me??? Surely not!

I am afraid that I cannot say that I have been swept off my feet by some gallant dyke who is going to whisk me away to Scandinavia or something. Or that after all these years, I have won the Publishers Clearing House and am busy setting up a deal for multiple lesbian retirement communities.

Basically, what I have been doing is just living life and laughing and loving. How very Pollyannaish of me! In the face of all that's wrong in the world; and all the things that need fixing; and all the things that need doing ... in spite of the bills in the mailbox and the fact that the auditors will be at work in just a week or so ... I am laughing. Not a brave grin pasted on a scared face. Not a polite chuckle at someone's less than funny joke. Not a nervous giggle usually heard when I have once again gotten myself into something that's not working well. But a stomach hurting, breath taking, deep down inside Laugh! One that rumbles up from the depths of my soul, brings tears to my eyes and my cheeks feel like my grin is splitting them open. A laugh that is brought on by a silly sound; a laugh occasioned by the women in my office having a jaw breaker eating spree and me being declared the *slowest sucker*. (Not entirely a bad thing you know )

After a time of stress and fear and looking for truths in my own self, I emerge into the sunlight of a really fun space! Not a profound philosophical place. Not a peaceful reflective place. But a really SILLY place!

I laugh as I twirl my very small almost 6 year old niece-of-choice around as we play Dance Party. You know what that is ... you put on some music and dance. You can do it with someone, you can do it alone. All you have to do is dance. There are no right steps or wrong steps ... you just let your body dance.

I laugh as I try to explain to her what *chemistry* means after hearing a line in a song that said *It isn't you, it isn't me, sometimes the chemistry doesn't ignite* (A Dixie Chicks song, "Let 'er Rip") Of course, you know that ... and I tell her that sometimes you meet someone that you like very very very much and you want to spend lots of time with them ... and maybe they could be a new roommate. That's Chemistry! Then sometimes you meet someone who is very nice but you really don't want to spend quite that much time with them. That's No Chemistry.

I laugh as we take silly snapshots of each other so we can put a new roll of film in before it's time for her brother's birthday party. I laugh and blush furiously as, after I get out of the tub and get dressed, she states that *Probably if I took a picture of you naked, you could send them to all your new friends and then they would have chemistry with you* (What can I say ... she thinks I am kewl )

I giggle with a friend on the phone ... and I giggle even more when I realize that neither of us can speak ... the slightest attempt at conversation just brings on more giggles. And that taking a drink of water won't help because I will either spew it all over the receiver or choke!

I laugh with delight when a fairy appears in my mailbox. I chortle when a sentence in an eMail from a very dear friend says *I can feel you getting stronger. You are one of the most impressive people I've ever met. AND ..... you're goofy.*

I laugh out loud and am very proud, when after sending a copy of the first two Crone articles to my daughter, I receive an eMail titled YOU ARE MY MOM! I wasn't able to be that for her for a very long time and I delight in knowing her and loving her. Although I do still wonder why she sent me petrified frogs in crocheted bikinis as a gift. But, she was right ... had I drank the tequila first it would have made a lot of sense. ROFLMAO
{{{{{Terri}}}}}

I laugh with a group of ten year old Girl Scouts selling aluminum cans. They had over a hundred pounds ... I had one bag. One of them asked me what I was going to do with the money, and I told her that if I ever had enough I might take a trip. She told me that they collected their cans and sold them and then did things for the people in the nursing homes, and plant flowers around town and other such good deeds. I sort of apologized for my less than philanthropic plan and she replied *Well, don't worry about it. You can't always be good!* and then proceeded to give me a crash course in can collecting.

I laugh with pleasure as I eat the first fig I ever had that wasn't wrapped in a layer of cookie. Actually the first fig I have ever seen! I still haven't seen the ocean, but now I have eaten a fig! And they are really good and very surprising. They don't look at all like I thought they would!

I laugh as I plan a surprise for someone. I laugh as I pay bills ... hey I had enough money to do that ... now isn't that a wonderful thing?

I laugh excitedly as I anticipate a trip next month to be the *best womon* for my wonderful cybertwin as she and her partner at last have the commitment ceremony that has been planned for so long. It's a wonderful thing ... but even more wonderful to me will be that I get to hug her and hold her and laugh and tell stories. It's been way too long without a *twin fix*

And, now that I am exhausted from all the laughing, I can smile contentedly as I think about the loves in my life both old and new ... young and old. Loves that I have shared a meal with, and loves with whom I have perhaps shared only words on a computer screen. Loves who excite me, spoil me, tease me, make me think, sometimes, maybe even make me cry. Loves who have seen me at my best ... and at my worst and still love me. Loves who have had at times spoken sternly to me ... but only when I needed it. Loves who have encouraged me as I travel down new pathways. Loves who allow and encourage me when they receive an eMail full of fantasy and NO news. Loves who share their dreams and fears and sorrows with me, as well as their joys and excitement and plans for the future.

Next time I will try to be perhaps a bit more of the Productive Crone. I would try now, but I can't. I am laughing too hard!

Home Keys by Junobe

May 1996

Fifty-two year old Cindy sat in front of her typewriter. She was holding up the thumb of her right hand, staring at it. She wondered how many times so far in her life she had hit the typewriter space bar with that thumb. "Let me see," she thought, "I started typing in high school. Then I took ten years out for a marriage and two children. No typing then; that's for sure!"

Dishes and diapers had been her priorities then, but now she didn't want to think about dishes and diapers. She had spent far more time at the typewriter by now. She had taken a refresher course in typing right before her divorce. She didn't know that was why she took the course. She couldn't let herself plan a divorce. She could only plan to take a typing course. "Strange," she thought. "After 25 years of typing for a living, I still don't type any faster than I did in typing class, but I sure do know a hell of a lot more about typewriters and papers now."

Cindy was planning to take a typing test tomorrow, but that she didn't count because she would be typing on a computer, and computers could make the end results look perfect. No problems. No mistakes.

Cindy thought of her life as typewritten. Typed on paper with a typewriter was like broadcasting live. Each and every mistake could be detected if one took a close look. Unless? Unless, of course, she pressed the margin-release and backspaced off the paper. Slowly, she could hit the key over and over again and go past the confining 8 1/2 inch wide paper. Outside the margins where no letters showed on the paper, she could write what she wanted. This was not a return. It felt more like a retreat. Backspace and slowly defy the machine, the paper and her life. When she finally got as far left as she could go, she could break the rules and no one knew. Hitting the backspace key left only black rubber marks on the black rubber platen. Just keep hitting backspace, and in that area, she had an abortion.

After the abortion though, Cindy had to use the spacebar and cross the paper. She typed her rights, her choices and she didn't even try to cover the mistakes. She left them all in plain sight and defended them all before she had to backspace again.

If Cindy was angry, she would go off the page to the right. The bell at the margin's end would sound caution -- going off! Cindy would just press the margin release and ignore the caution bell. She would get carried away and type off the paper. When the spacebar would not allow her to type any further, it was time for a temper tantrum. Hit any key and she was still stuck. Unable to move ahead, she would hit the space bar until her anger and frustration subsided. Then she would simply hit the return key and there she was back at the left margin of the paper and her life. Margins had to be even and well-balanced and conform around all sides of the paper.

Cindy had used typing to get money as she thought of it for the past 25 years. She never thought of typing as a career even though most of her clerical jobs had been very hard work, she was simply getting money. She took two years off to go to undergraduate school and now it was time to get money again. Earning the Women's Studies major had been fun and meaningful, but now it was time to get money again. So she sat there musing over the typewriter.

Home keys had been the very first thing she had learned about typing. She did not think about them anymore. They were committed to her subconscious. "What were the home keys anyway," she wondered. Looking down at the keyboard, she said out loud, "Ummm, A,S,D,F for the left hand and J,K,L,semicolon for the right." She touched the shift key to make them capital letters. "Strange," she thought to herself, "strange the capital of the semi-colon was a colon" - typing rules said, "two spaces after a colon, one space after a semi-colon. One space after a comma, two spaces after a period." Did symbols that were also related to body functions need more space? Who decided on these rules, anyway? "Since she was no longer having periods, could she get away with one space? Not if you want to get money for typing," she decided.

Ever since Cindy had come out as a lesbian, spacing had been weird. The space bar acted up and gave her too little space, and then it would get carried away and give her way too much space. She pressed the shift for caps and the space bar and typed L E S B I A N with a space between each letter. The spacebar had helped her march in Pride Day Parades. When it was time to get money, she had to squeeze back into the closet allowing only half spaces between small letters. She found it very annoying, frustrating to type in this way, but she felt no need to get off the paper yet. Eight and a half by 11-inch paper was ok at the moment. At 12 characters per inch, 102 characters across the page, and she was still well within the margins. How many spaced lines from top to bottom? She could not remember. "Oh well," she said, "no matter of concern."

She was staying on the paper well within the margins right now. She had almost gone off when she decided to ask that young dyke out, but the baby dyke had acted clueless so Cindy was still on the paper. Black on white. Why not white letters on black paper. The copy she used to have of her birth certificate had been that way. She guessed that that it had been some sort of negative in the days before copy machines. "Was that an omen then?" she mused. Was my life meant to be the reverse of most others? She hated to conform. She liked the edges of the paper ok, but having to type off it was scary and oppressive. Now, she had to think about getting money again. Her fingers hovered over the home keys. She typed, "Get money. Pay the rent." It's time to live within the margins on 8 1/2 by 11-inch paper again. "Conform! Damn," she said out loud. Cindy wanted to live in capital letters and be able to use the spacebar lavishly. She typed, "Get money. Pay the rent. Stay on the paper." She pressed the return key several times. "How many times have I been here?" she asked herself. "Left margin, beginning a new page? Return, return, return. "Too many times," she thought. "My hands hurt from trying to get money. Is there another way to do it? Everyone probably has arthritis at a certain age and still have to get money." Painters, carpenters, factory workers seemed to get a lot more money that typists though. Blue collar, pink collar? When she was young, Cindy wore the pink collar without question. Now, she questioned. "What do you get if you mix blue and pink? Some kind of gray, I'm sure." she answered herself. Gray. Now gray seemed an okay color. Gray was scary. Gray was also beautiful. Living in the shadows -- in the gray areas outside the margins was what Cindy knew best.

She placed her fingers on the keys and typed, "Home Keys." She thought a moment and typed, "Home Sweet Home Keys." She grimaced, "Ugh, corny." She then tried, "Homeless Keys." Sadly then, she got up and turned the typewriter off. "Enough," she said, "you've got to be at the bus stop early to go and take that typing test tomorrow."

A Classic Revisited by Sanders-Davis

Its one of those nights the kind you just want to stay at home with your baby and pop in a video or two, thing is your in the mood for a "Family Flick" No not Escape from witch mountain by Disney! I'm talking about "Family" as in Lifestyle as in GAY!

Fortunately our selections of "Gay" movies have definitely expanded since I was a kid, it seems that the beginning of the 90's till the present has brought us an explosion of "Gay" movies as well as an emergence of very talented Gay film makers! But as always the classics stand True & Blue!

I never got to see the movie my other half kept raving about and I don't think I would of on my own, but she insisted we rent it and watch it together. Not that I thought the movie would be bad in any sense of the word it just struck me as well too male oriented for my taste but she kept insisting I take a look see and judge after the fact!

We situated ourselves in front of the TV Bottle of wine at hand and a big bowl of popcorn on our laps ( mandatory for serious movie watching) Lights , Camera, Action!!!

I was a little concerned that this movie centered around Gay male relationships, why would I a Proud Gay Female want to see a movie about Gay male relationships? But as I sat there and watched I realized the "Torch Song Trilogy" was not just about being Gay and Male but in fact the whole enchilada about just being Gay! Female or Male the issues still were the same! Being together in a straight world, Loving each other amongst all the prejudices and Parents...Oh most certainly the Parent thing!

In this movie brilliantly written , directed and starred in Harvey Fierstien takes us all on a journey of self discovery, falling in love, relationships, Homosexuality, Bisexuality, Life, Death, and trying to make your Mother understand and accept who you really are!

This was definitely an experience I did not expect to have, we laughed, cried and laughed again! It was certainly an incredible movie mandatory viewing for all of us in the life...and our parents too!

Joining Harvey in this Fab cast is the one and only Anne Bancroft ( a personal favorite of mine) in the role of Harvey's very Jewish on edge Mother! Not only can this wonderful actress play a serious role but her comedic talents are just as prevalent and she gets to express them both in this movie! Another great talent joining this cast is Matthew Broderick who plays Harvey's partner in life, it was refreshing to see Mr. Broderick playing such a role! ( And I thought it was pretty cool he was in a Gay movie)

Torch Song Trilogy brings up issues that still concern us today, in my opinion it is one of the best written and directed Gay movies of all time, it has proven itself to be a timeless, universal classic touching both the Gay and Lesbian lifestyle!

So next time you feel like a "Family" movie ( and you know what I mean by that) take a trip to your neighborhood video rental and ask for "Torch Song Trilogy" I assure you with this one you can even invite Mom or Dad to be a part of the viewing audience! Available in almost every major video rentals like Block Buster or Hollywood Video it is a must see for all! I'm sure the Journey will leave you filled with not only pride but much Joy!

Enjoy!

Art Submitted by Connie

Surviving Menopause by HexAngyl

There are many myths/misconceptions and stereotypical thinking about menopausal women. Some of these are created and perpetuated by doctors and psychiatrists. Menopause is blamed for every mood change or unexplained feeling that a menopausal woman may experience just as PMS is with younger women. How many times have you heard someone derisively say, "She must be going through the change."?

Mastering the reactions to the cultural stereotype of menopausal women has been said to be one of the most difficult tasks in a woman's life.

MYTHS

- The "raging hormones" myth describes menopausal women as so incapacitated by hormone fluctuations that they are not capable of rational thought or behavior and should not hold any kind of responsible position.

- "Superwoman" myth suggests that a usefully busy woman will hardly notice menopause. HA!

- The "melancholia" myth is a so-called "disorder" or "mental disease" that many doctors and/or families used as a diagnosis to hospitalize thousands of women years ago. Many of these women never were discharged from this hospitalization.

Even though contemporary studies fail to demonstrate that depression among midlife women is associated wth menopause, the fear of "going crazy" at menopause still is a part of our culture.

NON MEDICAL HELP

There are many ways that are nonmedical to deal with menopause and the related symptoms such as exercise, diet, vitamin supplements, and herbal therapy.

Good nutrition includes a diet that is high in beta-carotene and vitamins C and E~the antioxidants~which have been found to lower the risk of heart disease, foods that are filled with fiber for the cholesterol, and foods with fatty acids to help moisturize the body, too. Some foods with fatty acids are sunflower seeds salmon, soy beans and leafy green vegetables.

Vit. C, D, and Calcium are essential for bone formation. Magnesium can aid with relaxation. Vit. E can reduce leg cramps and hot flashes. And B Complex decreases swelling or edema.

Herbal teas, such as Chamomile and Ginger, also help reduce discomfort of hot flashes and headaches, but be sure and read the precautions because some herbs can be harmful in large amounts.

Relaxation techniques, such as meditation, giving and getting massages, and yoga can help to reduce stress and depression. And last, but certainly not least, sex can be relaxing and reduce insomnia.

Most importantly, daily moderate exercise is essential throughout menopause.

These approaches are not some magical cure all and certainly not enough by themselves. It is important that we use all resources available to us to make this transition as easy as possible.

The Ceremony of Maté by Froggie

With some of you I have already made friends, with the others I hope I will in no time. Hopefully, you’ll come visit. After a couple of minutes, I, like any good host, will offer you something to drink and ask: "Care For a Maté?" Since this invitation has a secret meaning, I thought I’d tell you a bit more about it, so that you can decide beforehand whether or not you want to participate with me in...

When invited into a French home, you are very likely to be offered some wine. When invited into an Italian home, you will be served a good espresso. When invited into a German home, get ready for beer and schnapps. When invited into a British home, you will not be able to escape the "nice cup of tea." When invited into a Chilean home, your host will offer you a "tecito" (literally little tea) as soon as he or she opens the door, usually even before greeting you. A French friend of mine actually thought "tecito" meant "hello" in some strange Chilean native language! But, when invited into an Argentine home, you will be offered to share a maté with your host and his or her family and friends.

Now, if you have done your homework before getting to Argentina, you should not be completely surprised by the invitation. You will have read in the Encyclopedia Britannica that maté is a "tea-like beverage (...) brewed from the dried leaves of an evergreen shrub." You may even know that maté is the name of both the herb, also called yerba, or yerba maté, and the gourd you drink it from and that you will have to drink it through a silver straw called a "bombilla." You might then think that maté is just an exotic kind of tea that you are willing to try.

Well, you are wrong, terribly wrong. Maté is much more than a tea, exotic or not; it is a ceremony, a ceremony about friendship and sharing, two of the most important values in Argentine society. And the ceremony actually started long before your host even thought of inviting you to share a maté with him or her. The first step in the ceremony of a good maté is the choice of the yerba: it can be Paraguayan, Brazilian, or Argentine, soft or strong, with or without midribs. Each brand has its characteristics and its loyal followers, although some people use two or more different types, according to the moment of the day or the occasion.

As important as the choice of the yerba, is the choice and curing of the maté itself, the gourd that will be used to serve maté. Although some people may use metallic or glass matés when they drink alone, the best gourd, the one they will invite you to drink from, is the hard shell from a local fruit. To cure a maté, you fill half of it with yerba, top it with hot water, and leave it alone for three days. The shell will get impregnated with the taste of the yerba and therefore will not "steal" the taste of the matés you will drink from it.

The next step of the ceremony is the actual preparation and serving of a maté. This is called "cebada" and the person who serves ("ceba") the maté is called "cebador." The server fills the maté with yerba up to about three-quarters of its capacity. He then puts the bombilla, the silver straw, into the yerba, without stirring, and fills the maté with hot water. The water should be hot, on the verge of boiling, but not boiling.

The first serving goes to the cebador. This is not a privilege, since this first maté is the strongest and the least enjoyable. Sipping through the bombilla, the server drinks the whole content of the gourd, until the air "snores" through the bombilla. He then fills it up again with hot water and hands it to the next person. This person also drinks the whole content of the gourd and hands it back to the cebador. The maté goes around the group, always coming back to get filled by the cebador, until the taste of the yerba starts to weaken. The maté is then declared "lavado" (washed) and the ceremony can either end, or start over after the cebador has changed the yerba.

As a guest at the ceremony, you will not be asked to respect many rules, but please remember that maté is a ceremony and that the keywords of it are friendship and sharing. Therefore, do not leave a maté halfway; once you have accepted it, drink the whole of it. Also make sure that you do not slow down the rhythm of the round; remember that other people are waiting and the water is getting colder. And, please, never even suggest that using the same bombilla and the same gourd is unhygienic. "Of course it is," says the webmaster of Noborders, "but that is expressly why sharing a maté is such an intimate experience. The offer to share something so intimate is the highest honor of all. If you don't want to be that close to someone, don't share a maté with them. Otherwise, don't say anything about the hygiene of the experience."

Want to know more about maté? Try http://www.noborders.net/mate