Fahkackta is my favorite word.
Here, I'll use it in a sentence:
The fahkackta dog pished on the carpet again!
Or, here's another:
The fahkackta board meeting lasted until 10pm.
And another:
Sorry, I'm late. The fahkackta phone wouldn't stop ringing.
I think you get the picture.
I also love the word fahputzed, the meaning of which you will easily gather from the following conversation:
Yenta #1: "So, where are YOU going all fahputzed?"
Yenta #2: "Oy, I have the Women's Auxiliary luncheon today."
Yenta #1: "My, aren't you fancy-schmancy." (By the way, "fancy-schmancy"...also good.)
When my children have a fever, I kiss their keppies. When they're schluffy, I tell them to close their eggehlas.
At our synagogue's nursery school, the teachers (who all can't wait to become Bubbes) call the students mamaleh and tataleh. Speaking of Bubbes...my children call my mother Buddee, which most people think came from Bubbe, but really came from my daughter's favorite toy Bunny. We also have a Zayde and a Tanta in our mishpocha.
Yiddish, as you know, can be used in a plethora of situations. Case in point--sometimes my husband leaves the signal light on too long when he drives. At times like these I could refer to him (lovingly, of course) as an alter kocker. Essentially, I would be calling him an old man, but it's not a nice reference--it really means "old poop." In other words, you wouldn't say (reverently, of course) "The Dalai Lama is such an alter kocker." No, no, no. Not only would that be bad (on so many levels, not least of which is karma), it would make no sense at all. You could, however, say, "The Dalai Lama is such a chachem." Chachem means wise man. I love this word also. To say it sounds like you're clearing your throat. Makes sense, since if you were a real chachem, people would want to know when you were about to speak your wise words, so clearing your throat (making that chachem sound) would be helpful.
Yiddish is wonderful--so descriptive and truly fun to use (and yet another way to make your home Jewish!) I sing lullabies to my children before bed. My daughter hears a favorite tune from Kenny Loggins' "Songs from Pooh Corner", but the same sweet song did not soothe my son when he was born. So, for some reason, I started singing him "Oyfn Pripeshik." Honestly, I don't even know if I have all the words right (although, it's not like anyone in my house would know), but it feels so nice to sing it. One night, he didn't want to go to sleep. I started singing "Oyfn Pripeshik." Immediately, he said, "Noooooo...not the sleepy song" (as if he couldn't resist the magical sleeping power of the "Oyfn Pripeshik.") Needless to say, he was asleep within minutes (ooh, Yiddish is so good).
Speaking of my son, he's often been described by his Great Uncle as a vilda chia. I love this description. It means wild animal. I'm certain there are other 6 year-old boys who are vilda chias. In fact, my son, the vilda chia, often makes the fahkackta dog meshugana.
So, there's my little Yiddish lesson. Next time you and your friends are kibbitzing at Starbucks or taking a break from shvitzin' in Pilates, throw in a few choice Yiddish words. And, if you can't figure out the meaning of any of the words I used, ask your Bubbe. Then ask her to teach you the really juicy ones.
By the way, as a little extra, I'm going to teach you the words to a song my Great Aunt Celie used to sing when she was in the Yiddish Theater. It's very sweet.
A little boy and a little girl
In an afternoon of bliss.
Said the little boy to the little girl
"Pray, give me just one kiss."
The girl drew back in her surprise
"You're a stranger, sir," said she.
"But I will give you just one kiss
When the apples grow on the lilac tree."
The boy was very sad, of course.
She was the only one.
The girl was so remorseful
At the terrible wrought she had wrung.
So bright and early on the very next morn,
He was quite surprised to see
His little sweetheart
Tying apples
On the lilac tree!
(If you ask me, I think the little girl is a bit of a tzotzkeh.)
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