Monday, March 22, 2010

Till: A four letter word

I was eleven or twelve years old when Steve G, a fellow percussionist in our middle school band, told me that the definition of the word “Fuck” according to the Oxford Unabridged Dictionary was “to turn over ones garden; to till soil; to plow.” Steve told me I could use the word “fuck” as long as it was in context and I would not get in trouble by any teacher because it was in the dictionary. I did not believe him. He convinced me by pointing out that in Health Class we were learning how sperm is like a seed; that one of the euphemisms for having sex was to plow someone, and that is why a girl’s virginity was also referred to as her flower. He told me the word “till” and the word “fuck” were interchangeable.

Steve G was very compelling. I am not sure if he believed the story himself or if he was trying to trick me. He was the lead drummer and played the drum set and I was just the kid who played the tambourine, so I looked up to him. Or maybe I was gullible. Needless to say I got a detention from Mr. Mauro when I told him I had to leave band practice early so I could go and “Fuck” my garden.

Lauren and I decided to start a vegetable garden in our back yard. We decided the best spot for the garden would be where we have a decent sized tiger lily bed. My job on Saturday was to till the garden and take up all the tiger lily bulbs. I couldn’t help but remember what Steve G told me back in 7th grade.

Part of the gardening process of course became an outdoor begats session. We needed to dig up an Azaela bush, which begat me digging up a large decorative grass, which begat me planting the grass in another location which begat me digging another hole. Somewhere in the midst of all the digging I tweaked something in my back. Tweak is not a strong enough word to describe what I did to my mid-lower back. No, what I did to my back was I messed it the Till up.

Sunday morning I picked up Jackson and I swung him from my left hip to my right hip when most excruciating pain shot out from below my shoulder blade down to my foot.
“Oh Till” I said as I placed Jackson on the ground and I lowered myself to the floor. I cried out for Lauren to come and help me.

“What the Till?” I thought, “I must have really Tilled up my back.” The pain subsided after a few moments.

Later, Lauren left me to go to a craft show, I took the kids food shopping. Max and Wyatt went into the kid care center while I took Jackson in the cart. As I shopped Jackson played the drop game by dropping everything I gave him, the keys, the sippy cup, the bottle, just so he could watch me pick it up. Every time I bent down I could feel a twinge in my back muscles. We were in the soup aisle when I realized that my shopping cart, now half full, was too far in the center of the aisle. I steered the front wheels towards the shelves but I could not maneuver the back of the cart due to an old lady standing in the way. I tried to dead lift the back of the shopping cart when I felt something snap and twist in my back.

My knees went out from under me. “Mother Tiller!” I huffed through gritted teeth and I knelt on all fours. I broke out into a sweat as I realized I was not going to be able to get up. Jackson looked down at me, smiled and dropped my keys on my head.

It took me a minute or two to catch my breath and I slowly turned over and scooted my back against the shelves of store brand tomato soup. I took a few deep breaths and using the shelves as a brace I tried to push myself up. The old lady asked me if I was okay. I thanked her as she reached out and held me steady as I stood up. Man was I Tilling embarrassed.

I have a prescription for when my herniated discs flare up and when I got home I decided to a take a couple of them to help ease the pain I was feeling. My back was Tilling killing me. I took the rest of the day easy trying my best to nurse my back. When Lauren returned we decided to make some frozen drinks and enjoy the nice weather on the patio. Some neighbors stopped by and I made another batch of drinks. After a while Lauren asked me if I was okay. She said I was slurring my words and I was acting a bit strange. It was then that I remembered that I took the pills.

Needless to say I was little Tilled up.

I don't know if he knew it then but Steve G was kind of right about the word. I tilled my garden and my garden tilled me right back.


Winners from last week's contest.
My first issue of Avengers was #188. The three winners of the Iron Man childrens books are Diet Goddess, Nilbo, and Shannon. (Gretchen was close too but she left a duplicate answer which was against the rules).

The winner of the Sausage a month for a year goes to Gwen.

Please email me batmeaks@ verizon .net so I can get your address.


Gwen said...

I think it's only appropriate that a single gal (ME!) won a year's worth of sausages. I'm a winner!!!!

Thank you, dear, for making my Monday extraordinary.

Queen of Dishing said...

Ironically I had just read this when you posted on my new blog-wanted to let you know I have been following yours since it was featured on and you are one of my blogging inspirations ;)

Melinda said...

You are tilling silly!
How you are feeling better, Matie.

Shannon said...

Doesn't getting old tilling suck?

Have fun with that sausage, Gwen!

Thanks for the giveaway, Bill- my son's gonna love the books!

Susie said...

I tilling enjoyed this, having just tilled up my back last week, and having had a similar experience, having to lie on the tilling floor for quite some time before I could stand the till back up.

(I'm going to email that tilling Shamar Tilling Moore a link to this post. Mothertiller.)

for a different kind of girl said...

This post was so tillin' hilarious! Hope your back is feeling better now.

James (SeattleDad) said...

Tilling awesome William. Tilling Awesome!

Anonymous said...

I remember dad would always have a roto-till. Big gas powered thing. No wonder there is 9 of us.

Anonymous said...

Till you. I was counting on that sausage. Now what are we gonna eat? Guess I'll have to start a garden.