One of my favorite friends in the whole wide world is working her ass off right now to bring her son home from Haiti. She's been through the wringer and continues to be wrung. The good news? She's a fighter and refuses to walk down the path most trodden... instead, she is choosing the one that will make all the difference.
She needs some help to continue on this hike. If you can spare a nickel or two, please do so. And if that nickel is hard to come by right now? Check out her blog and send her some love and strength... even though she's a warrior who refuses to be slowed down, she has a heart of mush and the voices of support do her good.
Check it.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Times are different
I'm not totally sure what the hold up has been on announcing our news... when we first heard of Tesfu, we were literally shouting from the rooftops. A short little blurb was made with videos and photographs and we posted it all that very same night for anyone and everyone to see.
"Listen world!" we exclaimed, "This is our boy! Watch! Watch and see!"
It was all so amazing and emotional and incredible and fast. Fast. That day seemed so fast. No holding back. Phone calls. Laughter. Tears. Fear. Joy. Lunch with his picture between us. Special dinner with champagne. More phone calls. Exhaustion. Worry.
Yes. That worry bit started right away. Continued straight on until the road swung left. Then right. Then left again. This way, that way.
Although we couldn't see it, we could see it. We could see it... but at the same time, I think we refused to focus. We knew, but we didn't want to know.
I remember wanting to envelope him in my arms right away... yet being so scared at the same time.
The world was different at that time. We were different.
We didn't have a clue. Not a single one. In fact, many of us didn't know what in the hell we were embarking on. There was a whole gaggle of us, meeting in the land of Blog, sharing our woes, cheering each other on, celebrating as each person received The Call.
It was crazy. So exciting. Thrilling. Crazy. My life was spent checking blogs to see who had found out about their child(ren). Every break at work meant time to refresh my screen.
Who was next. Who was next. Who was next.
I look back at that time and I think... young.
It was all before. Before we knew all the shit we know now. Before we were questioning the ethics of adoption from Ethiopia in a true and real fashion. Before we knew what trauma really looked like. Before we knew what parenting looked like. Before we knew -really, really knew- what it would feel like to have our child looking at us with questions and terror in their eyes that we had hardly anticipated. Before we knew there would be sleep issues. Food issues. Control issues. Sensory issues. Before we knew the trips our marriages would take. How our own trauma-related issues would rise to the occasion. How we would mess up. How we would regret actions, words, choices.
It was all before we knew how incredible it would be for our child to feel safe with us. Before we knew the way our heart would skip a beat at the moment they decided to hold our hands when crossing the street rather than fight off our desire to protect. Before we knew the freedom we would experience when the hands would come down from the ears and we could all dance in the living room.
It was all before we knew how close our hearts would come to bursting with just one glance. Just one touch. Just one word.
Things are different. Times are different.
But the joy? Oh the joy! It is the same. It is intense and incredible and amazing... and we are moving slowly with it. Slow and steady. Relishing the moments in-between. The quiet.
Full of wonder. That familiar sense of worry. Highs and lows.
We are here, but we are not here.
We are here, but we are also there. There. Across the ocean and tucked away in Ethiopia, with a little girl we will call Selam.
"Listen world!" we exclaimed, "This is our boy! Watch! Watch and see!"
It was all so amazing and emotional and incredible and fast. Fast. That day seemed so fast. No holding back. Phone calls. Laughter. Tears. Fear. Joy. Lunch with his picture between us. Special dinner with champagne. More phone calls. Exhaustion. Worry.
Yes. That worry bit started right away. Continued straight on until the road swung left. Then right. Then left again. This way, that way.
Although we couldn't see it, we could see it. We could see it... but at the same time, I think we refused to focus. We knew, but we didn't want to know.
I remember wanting to envelope him in my arms right away... yet being so scared at the same time.
The world was different at that time. We were different.
We didn't have a clue. Not a single one. In fact, many of us didn't know what in the hell we were embarking on. There was a whole gaggle of us, meeting in the land of Blog, sharing our woes, cheering each other on, celebrating as each person received The Call.
It was crazy. So exciting. Thrilling. Crazy. My life was spent checking blogs to see who had found out about their child(ren). Every break at work meant time to refresh my screen.
Who was next. Who was next. Who was next.
I look back at that time and I think... young.
It was all before. Before we knew all the shit we know now. Before we were questioning the ethics of adoption from Ethiopia in a true and real fashion. Before we knew what trauma really looked like. Before we knew what parenting looked like. Before we knew -really, really knew- what it would feel like to have our child looking at us with questions and terror in their eyes that we had hardly anticipated. Before we knew there would be sleep issues. Food issues. Control issues. Sensory issues. Before we knew the trips our marriages would take. How our own trauma-related issues would rise to the occasion. How we would mess up. How we would regret actions, words, choices.
It was all before we knew how incredible it would be for our child to feel safe with us. Before we knew the way our heart would skip a beat at the moment they decided to hold our hands when crossing the street rather than fight off our desire to protect. Before we knew the freedom we would experience when the hands would come down from the ears and we could all dance in the living room.
It was all before we knew how close our hearts would come to bursting with just one glance. Just one touch. Just one word.
Things are different. Times are different.
But the joy? Oh the joy! It is the same. It is intense and incredible and amazing... and we are moving slowly with it. Slow and steady. Relishing the moments in-between. The quiet.
Full of wonder. That familiar sense of worry. Highs and lows.
We are here, but we are not here.
We are here, but we are also there. There. Across the ocean and tucked away in Ethiopia, with a little girl we will call Selam.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
What I want
I'm sitting here, staring at my computer and FORCING MYSELF OFF PINTEREST. If I pin one more baking recipe I will die. Just die.
If you're my pal on facebook, you know I've shared some big news this week. Huge news. Amazing news. NEWS THAT MAKES ME WANT TO BAKE AND EAT AND BAKE AND EAT.
All I want right now, besides news of a court date, is a bag of chips. Potato chips. With deep ridges. Deep, deep ridges. The kind that are so deep and thick your teeth almost crack in two when you bite down. And the salt? There's so much salt you have to have a big icy glass of something right next to you just to make it through the bag.
IF I DIDN'T LIVE IN THE MIDDLE OF GOD KNOWS WHERE I WOULD BE AT THE GROCERY STORE RIGHT THIS SECOND, BUYING SAID CHIPS. AND A DIET COKE. WITH ICE.
If you're my pal on facebook, you know I've shared some big news this week. Huge news. Amazing news. NEWS THAT MAKES ME WANT TO BAKE AND EAT AND BAKE AND EAT.
All I want right now, besides news of a court date, is a bag of chips. Potato chips. With deep ridges. Deep, deep ridges. The kind that are so deep and thick your teeth almost crack in two when you bite down. And the salt? There's so much salt you have to have a big icy glass of something right next to you just to make it through the bag.
IF I DIDN'T LIVE IN THE MIDDLE OF GOD KNOWS WHERE I WOULD BE AT THE GROCERY STORE RIGHT THIS SECOND, BUYING SAID CHIPS. AND A DIET COKE. WITH ICE.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
The man who should have been my father
Things have been bubbling and brewing over here. Lots of stuff going on... bubble, bubble, brew, brew. There's potential. Change. Transitions.
I've been missing my dad. It's kind of bullshit, because I missed him for forever while growing up, finally reconnected with him, got to know him for about four years post-reunion, and then? Then he died. And it's been about three years since. And those four years we were learning about each other? Plenty of ups and downs. Kind of fucked up, depending on when the visit was occurring or what was being discussed. Or what was going on in life. Or what kind of answers I was seeking. Or whatever.
That being said, there was lots that felt so damn good. So damn good. Stuff that helped me feel more complete, less like a piece of shit. It would be easy (so, so easy) to fill a large book about it all. And maybe I will. One day.
In the meantime, I was reading a book recently that spoke of a relationship similar to the one I had with my dad. All that forever while growing up time, missing something... someone.
The impact was severe. Being abandoned and then being raised by someone who had/has plenty of her own demons. Sometimes felt like I was involved in a train crash. Set on repeat.
Anyway, this book I spoke of? The author writes that the daughter, once reunited in a physical sense with her biological father (she, also, had a shitty step-father in her life at one time), was "able to tell they would have been strengthened by each other's love, by their smart father-daughter complicity." That "something essential, that both needed, had been ripped from them. This was the man who should have been her father."
How would my life had been different with him in my day to day while growing and developing my sense of self? Would it have been better? Would it have been worse? I will never know. And, I suppose, it's not important.
What I do know? What I know for sure? There were these incredible moments I had with him, both of us smoking cigarettes, discussing, analyzing, arguing... taking breaks just to be be present with each other... all these moments, we were connecting. And I finally found myself feeling like I belonged. That the missing piece? It had been found. I could move forward.
I think he felt the same way.
We made sense with each other.
Also? My ears matched his.
I was my father's daughter. This was the man who should have been around all those days, all those moments, all those hours. Damn that he wasn't.
I wish he were here... I could so use him during these current moments of bubbling and brewing. Times of change and transitions.
I've been missing my dad. It's kind of bullshit, because I missed him for forever while growing up, finally reconnected with him, got to know him for about four years post-reunion, and then? Then he died. And it's been about three years since. And those four years we were learning about each other? Plenty of ups and downs. Kind of fucked up, depending on when the visit was occurring or what was being discussed. Or what was going on in life. Or what kind of answers I was seeking. Or whatever.
That being said, there was lots that felt so damn good. So damn good. Stuff that helped me feel more complete, less like a piece of shit. It would be easy (so, so easy) to fill a large book about it all. And maybe I will. One day.
In the meantime, I was reading a book recently that spoke of a relationship similar to the one I had with my dad. All that forever while growing up time, missing something... someone.
The impact was severe. Being abandoned and then being raised by someone who had/has plenty of her own demons. Sometimes felt like I was involved in a train crash. Set on repeat.
Anyway, this book I spoke of? The author writes that the daughter, once reunited in a physical sense with her biological father (she, also, had a shitty step-father in her life at one time), was "able to tell they would have been strengthened by each other's love, by their smart father-daughter complicity." That "something essential, that both needed, had been ripped from them. This was the man who should have been her father."
How would my life had been different with him in my day to day while growing and developing my sense of self? Would it have been better? Would it have been worse? I will never know. And, I suppose, it's not important.
What I do know? What I know for sure? There were these incredible moments I had with him, both of us smoking cigarettes, discussing, analyzing, arguing... taking breaks just to be be present with each other... all these moments, we were connecting. And I finally found myself feeling like I belonged. That the missing piece? It had been found. I could move forward.
I think he felt the same way.
We made sense with each other.
Also? My ears matched his.
I was my father's daughter. This was the man who should have been around all those days, all those moments, all those hours. Damn that he wasn't.
I wish he were here... I could so use him during these current moments of bubbling and brewing. Times of change and transitions.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
He's already 4, but he doesn't know it
It's true. I'm a feeler. A big, fat feeler. I feel, feel, feel. For better, for worse. FEEL. It's a total pain in the ass. Feelings totally get in the way all the time. Things that bother me, things that get to me way deep down? They probably don't get to the thinkers out there. I certainly didn't ask to be so high up there on the feeler side of the scale and would tone it down if I could, but yep. Can't really do it. Maybe could do it with the help of prescription meds, but that's for a whole other conversation. On a whole other day.
So. That all being said.
Tesfu turned four this past week. He doesn't know it, he would flip out if he knew it, he's been waiting since he turned three for this event, he would GASP! and then laugh and ask where the cake was. Preferably a cake that looked like either Rudolph, the hat from The Cat in the Hat, or Thomas the train. Next he would ask about a hundred times if he would be getting the first bite from said cake because apparently that's the way it's done. Then we would laugh and almost squish hug (not quite there yet!) and celebrate the rest of the day. But.
But.
As it is, this year we finally (FINALLY!) readopted Tesfu in the States. We paid a lawyer too much money in an effort to have his birthday changed from two different birth dates (both on random and not so random pieces of paperwork) to the date we were given by our searchers (thus, Tesfu's birth mother) about this time last year. In the end, it didn't work out. And the date we now have on his birth certificate happens to be a date in which some significant trauma was incurred for our boy.
So. Even though Tesfu is four, he isn't four. Not for many more days. And right now? Not knowing how he is going to deal with this information as a young man? As an adult? This information about what actually happened on his "birthday?" Yep. That's where the feelers come in. BIG TIME. It makes me sick. I think about me, I think about my reactions to life based on significant dates within it, and I get all kinds of worried.
Maybe, just maybe, he'll grow up and learn about this and be completely chill. Maybe he's a thinker. Perhaps he'll hear the story, will understand the dates, and end up thinking- "well shit, this is logical. No worries! It all makes sense! Life goes on!" And I'll smile real big and promise him that he can drink a beer on his real 21st birthday (because that will be his first beer, so help me), and maybe then he'll be open to a squish hug from his mama. And I'll be thinking, "Phew! All that worry for nothing!"
But? But maybe he won't grow up and be chill with the news. Maybe he's a feeler. Perhaps it will blow him away and make breathing difficult. He might get angry and furious and call everything a big, humongous farce.
Shit. I hope not. I really, really hope not. Because that stuff? It hurts like hell. He'll be ripping up on the inside if that's his reaction. Total fear response, right Bryan Post?
However. However. Regardless of his reaction at whatever time it all comes together, I'll be there, open to anything, ready to listen and be. And maybe he'll be open to a squish hug, maybe he'll just need to know that I'm available.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Until then. Happy fourth birthday my little Tesfu. I love you so, so much.
So. That all being said.
Tesfu turned four this past week. He doesn't know it, he would flip out if he knew it, he's been waiting since he turned three for this event, he would GASP! and then laugh and ask where the cake was. Preferably a cake that looked like either Rudolph, the hat from The Cat in the Hat, or Thomas the train. Next he would ask about a hundred times if he would be getting the first bite from said cake because apparently that's the way it's done. Then we would laugh and almost squish hug (not quite there yet!) and celebrate the rest of the day. But.
But.
As it is, this year we finally (FINALLY!) readopted Tesfu in the States. We paid a lawyer too much money in an effort to have his birthday changed from two different birth dates (both on random and not so random pieces of paperwork) to the date we were given by our searchers (thus, Tesfu's birth mother) about this time last year. In the end, it didn't work out. And the date we now have on his birth certificate happens to be a date in which some significant trauma was incurred for our boy.
So. Even though Tesfu is four, he isn't four. Not for many more days. And right now? Not knowing how he is going to deal with this information as a young man? As an adult? This information about what actually happened on his "birthday?" Yep. That's where the feelers come in. BIG TIME. It makes me sick. I think about me, I think about my reactions to life based on significant dates within it, and I get all kinds of worried.
Maybe, just maybe, he'll grow up and learn about this and be completely chill. Maybe he's a thinker. Perhaps he'll hear the story, will understand the dates, and end up thinking- "well shit, this is logical. No worries! It all makes sense! Life goes on!" And I'll smile real big and promise him that he can drink a beer on his real 21st birthday (because that will be his first beer, so help me), and maybe then he'll be open to a squish hug from his mama. And I'll be thinking, "Phew! All that worry for nothing!"
But? But maybe he won't grow up and be chill with the news. Maybe he's a feeler. Perhaps it will blow him away and make breathing difficult. He might get angry and furious and call everything a big, humongous farce.
Shit. I hope not. I really, really hope not. Because that stuff? It hurts like hell. He'll be ripping up on the inside if that's his reaction. Total fear response, right Bryan Post?
However. However. Regardless of his reaction at whatever time it all comes together, I'll be there, open to anything, ready to listen and be. And maybe he'll be open to a squish hug, maybe he'll just need to know that I'm available.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Until then. Happy fourth birthday my little Tesfu. I love you so, so much.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Grand adventure
He's passed out now, his jungle-print fleece blanket pulled up over his head so as to not be woken by the light coming from our side of the hotel room. Cute as a button, this one, cute as a friggen' button.
A couple weeks ago Jas and I decided to take Tesfu on a grand adventure to the land of unicorns and clouds filled with skittles for spring break (well, not so much unicorns and clouds filled with skittles as amazing rock formations and pretty saweet trail rides). You know, time to get out of the snow and the mountains and into the warmth and dryness of the desert.
The drive over here went pretty well.... I think it surprised all of us. Apples, movies, books (Tesfu recited the entire Red Fish, Blue Fish, One Fish, Two Fish book... left Jas and I catching flies due to the dropping of jaws). One squirrel lost its life (sadly, it happened in the parking lot of the hotel) and one boy experienced pure joy and delight in entering a room with not one but TWO beds in it... and a toilet!... and a shower!... and a nice chair!
After a quick "tour de room", to the bike shop we went in order to rent a trail-a-bike. Ends up that our wee boy can't quite spin the pedals the whole way 'round, but he proved to be happy as a clam just holding on tight to the handlebars and moving the pedals back and forth, back and forth. The ride started off with some snow (not quite what we were expecting, right?), some deep sand, some pushing of bikes... but ended with lots of happy faces and squeals to "GO FASTER DADDY!"
This stuff? It feels pretty damn good.
A couple weeks ago Jas and I decided to take Tesfu on a grand adventure to the land of unicorns and clouds filled with skittles for spring break (well, not so much unicorns and clouds filled with skittles as amazing rock formations and pretty saweet trail rides). You know, time to get out of the snow and the mountains and into the warmth and dryness of the desert.
The drive over here went pretty well.... I think it surprised all of us. Apples, movies, books (Tesfu recited the entire Red Fish, Blue Fish, One Fish, Two Fish book... left Jas and I catching flies due to the dropping of jaws). One squirrel lost its life (sadly, it happened in the parking lot of the hotel) and one boy experienced pure joy and delight in entering a room with not one but TWO beds in it... and a toilet!... and a shower!... and a nice chair!
After a quick "tour de room", to the bike shop we went in order to rent a trail-a-bike. Ends up that our wee boy can't quite spin the pedals the whole way 'round, but he proved to be happy as a clam just holding on tight to the handlebars and moving the pedals back and forth, back and forth. The ride started off with some snow (not quite what we were expecting, right?), some deep sand, some pushing of bikes... but ended with lots of happy faces and squeals to "GO FASTER DADDY!"
This stuff? It feels pretty damn good.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
The Pretentious Vegan Does Spicy Sloppy Joes and Onion Rings
Are you ready for this? Because for real. FOR REAL. This is some good grub. Some real good grub. Also? You use beer. BEER.
Spicy Sloppy Joes
Wha'cha need:
3 Tbs. grapeseed oil
4 large cloves garlic, minced
1 large green bell pepper, chopped
1.5 pounds soy crumbles (we used tempeh)
3 Tbs. chili powder
1 to 2 jalapeno peppers, seeded and diced (we don't believe in taking out the seeds, so, you know)
1 1/4 cups pale ale or brown ale, room temperature (we used dark ale because HELL YA)
3/4 cup bottled chili sauce
2 Tbs. soy sauce (I would have used Bragg's if I had known about it prior to this recipe)
1 cup finely chopped green onions
You might want to add:
4-6 whole wheat buns or potato rolls
Shredded lettuce
Shredded red cabbage (or is it purple?)
Sliced avocado
How to make it:
Warm oil in a large heavy pot over medium-high heat. Add garlic and green pepper, and saute, stirring frequently, for 5 minutes.
Stir in soy crumbles (in our case, crumbled up tempeh) and chili powder. Don't sneeze. If you do have to sneeze, do like a first grade teacher says and sneeze into your elbow. Cook 1 to 2 minutes, until fragrant.
Add jalapenos, ale (BEER!), chili sauce and soy sauce; mix well. Reduce heat to medium-low, stirring often, about 15 minutes, until thickened.
Mix in green onions; season with salt and pepper to taste. I recommend putting a couple large spoonfuls onto a whole-wheat bun, then covering your shloppy joe with shredded lettuce, red cabbage, and sliced avocados. Serve warm.
Baked Onion Rings
What'cha need:
1 cup all purpose flour
3/4 tsp salt, divided
3/4 cup tonic water (*we used Sprite... for real)
1 cup plain breadcrumbs (**did you know the store kind have egg whites and/or milk in them? I had no idea. NO IDEA. To go vegan, use Panko crumbs... they rock)
1 Tbs veggie oil
2 medium sweet onions, cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices
How to make 'em:
Coat baking sheet (will probably need 2) with cooking spray. Whisk flour and 1/2 tsp salt into bowl (I jacked that up and used all the salt... I dig salt, so it all worked out). Whisk in tonic (ummm, Sprite), adding more, if necessary, to make pancake-like batter.
Combine breadcrumbs, oil, and remaining 1/4 tsp salt in shallow bowl. Throw a pinch of salt over your shoulder, because that's what the Italians do.
Separate onions into rings. Dip each onion into batter, shaking off excess, then dip into breadcrumbs, coating completely. Place on prepared baking sheet, then place baking sheet in freezer for 20 minutes to set batter on rings.
Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Bake onion rings 7 to 10 minutes, or until they begin to brown on bottoms. Flip, and bake 7 to 10 minutes more, or until golden. Season with salt, if desired (yes please).
*So the whole Sprite thing. We didn't have any tonic water- and the tonic water that was sold at the General Store down the street cost something stupid like $8. So we did what any brilliant chef does and we goggled that business. Ends up that Sprite works as a substitute for tonic water. Like I said. For real.
**Also? While we're being honest? I didn't double the recipe, but I kind a did. I like my onion rings coated with batter. The crunchy kind of batter. So although I only used 2 onions, I either doubled or tripled the breadcrumbs and veggie oil. It was totally worth it. Totally.
-- both recipes were found at vegetariantimes.com
 |
| I totally spaced the red cabbage and avocado slices... DAMN! |
Wha'cha need:
3 Tbs. grapeseed oil
4 large cloves garlic, minced
1 large green bell pepper, chopped
1.5 pounds soy crumbles (we used tempeh)
3 Tbs. chili powder
1 to 2 jalapeno peppers, seeded and diced (we don't believe in taking out the seeds, so, you know)
1 1/4 cups pale ale or brown ale, room temperature (we used dark ale because HELL YA)
3/4 cup bottled chili sauce
2 Tbs. soy sauce (I would have used Bragg's if I had known about it prior to this recipe)
1 cup finely chopped green onions
You might want to add:
4-6 whole wheat buns or potato rolls
Shredded lettuce
Shredded red cabbage (or is it purple?)
Sliced avocado
How to make it:
Warm oil in a large heavy pot over medium-high heat. Add garlic and green pepper, and saute, stirring frequently, for 5 minutes.
Stir in soy crumbles (in our case, crumbled up tempeh) and chili powder. Don't sneeze. If you do have to sneeze, do like a first grade teacher says and sneeze into your elbow. Cook 1 to 2 minutes, until fragrant.
Add jalapenos, ale (BEER!), chili sauce and soy sauce; mix well. Reduce heat to medium-low, stirring often, about 15 minutes, until thickened.
Mix in green onions; season with salt and pepper to taste. I recommend putting a couple large spoonfuls onto a whole-wheat bun, then covering your shloppy joe with shredded lettuce, red cabbage, and sliced avocados. Serve warm.
 |
| If you look closely at the baking sheet, you can see how shitty cooking spray is for your pans! |
Baked Onion Rings
What'cha need:
1 cup all purpose flour
3/4 tsp salt, divided
3/4 cup tonic water (*we used Sprite... for real)
1 cup plain breadcrumbs (**did you know the store kind have egg whites and/or milk in them? I had no idea. NO IDEA. To go vegan, use Panko crumbs... they rock)
1 Tbs veggie oil
2 medium sweet onions, cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices
How to make 'em:
Coat baking sheet (will probably need 2) with cooking spray. Whisk flour and 1/2 tsp salt into bowl (I jacked that up and used all the salt... I dig salt, so it all worked out). Whisk in tonic (ummm, Sprite), adding more, if necessary, to make pancake-like batter.
Combine breadcrumbs, oil, and remaining 1/4 tsp salt in shallow bowl. Throw a pinch of salt over your shoulder, because that's what the Italians do.
Separate onions into rings. Dip each onion into batter, shaking off excess, then dip into breadcrumbs, coating completely. Place on prepared baking sheet, then place baking sheet in freezer for 20 minutes to set batter on rings.
Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Bake onion rings 7 to 10 minutes, or until they begin to brown on bottoms. Flip, and bake 7 to 10 minutes more, or until golden. Season with salt, if desired (yes please).
*So the whole Sprite thing. We didn't have any tonic water- and the tonic water that was sold at the General Store down the street cost something stupid like $8. So we did what any brilliant chef does and we goggled that business. Ends up that Sprite works as a substitute for tonic water. Like I said. For real.
**Also? While we're being honest? I didn't double the recipe, but I kind a did. I like my onion rings coated with batter. The crunchy kind of batter. So although I only used 2 onions, I either doubled or tripled the breadcrumbs and veggie oil. It was totally worth it. Totally.
-- both recipes were found at vegetariantimes.com
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