Wordy

The full Scottish Heart Attack breakfast plate

In honor of the nor’easter passing us by (mostly and YEA!) I give you some cool words with a, mostly, Scottish theme. I've been pining for the Highlands lately.

Disjune is an obsolete Scottish noun which means breakfast.

Nope. It sounds way more like a Brooklynite circa 1940. Ya now, Dis June me and da pigeon are gonna get spliced.

Busticate is a verb defined as to break into pieces.
Dictionary.com notes that it's a facetious formation from bust+ -icate, on the model of the regularly formed rusticate 
 
Wait...does it then follow that the definition of rusticate is to become Russian as in: Our president has all but rusticated. Ah…no. Rusticate is to go to or stay in the country. e.g.: Ima rusticate myself up to John O’Groats way for a piece of peace.

Krummholz is a noun meaning: a forest of stunted trees near the timber line on a mountain.
 
No, no, NO – this sounds MUCH more like a cousin of cookie duster or crumb catcher.  As in My krummholz are workin' overtime with this burrebrede.

Tzimmes
noun
1. Jewish Cookery (not Scottish). any of various sweetened combinations of vegetables, fruit, and sometimes meat, prepared as a casserole or stew.
2. fuss; uproar; hullabaloo:

Definition number two is what I always thought the word meant but then, I don’t cook. No, making coffee and roasting Brussels sprouts don’t actually count.

Dekko is a noun. It's British slang for a look or glance.

I’ll never remember it as that. For me, dropping dekko in a sentence means you’re making some reference to Tamara de Lempicka’s paintings or one of famed Glaswegian architect, Charles Rennie Mackintosh's buildings.

Craic (pronounced crack) is defined as fun and entertainment, especially good conversation and company “Come for the beer lads and stay for the craic.”

First time I saw this word, I was wandering around Glen Coe (AKA the Glen of Weeping), up in the Scottish Highlands. The hostel I was dossing in was, unbeknownst to me, THE place to stay for pro-level backpackers, hill walkers and rock climbers. When I’d checked in, the joint was molto tranquillo – the epitome of calm, craggy, pastoral beauty. I wondered if I was their only guest that night. That'd be beautifully idyllic.

The next morning, I took a gander out my window and saw a hundred, more or less, close packed, bright colored pup tents dotting the meadow in front of the hostel. Oof, we’ve got company. A lot of it.

When I went down for breakfast I saw a sign announcing a BIG craic for that evening in the dining room. I wondered what is this thing you call craic? I suspected, although it sounded the same, it was NOT related to Peruvian marching powder’s crystallized brother. It wasn’t.

This was a cèilidh with a quartet of traditional musicians – fiddlers, a concertina-ist and a bodhrán player. There was dancing, the local brew on tap and convivial convo. It was a righteous knees-up for the mountain conquering clan. Me? I was a bit intimidated by all these rugged, fleece hoodied, Docker-shod, ultra-fit and buoyant outdoors-folk who clearly had caffeine, not blood, running in their veins.

In a fit of introversion, I went back to my room where I could read whilst listening to the music and clomping of heavy booted dancing. I guess I'm a big craic fan only if I can sit back in a corner and people watch OR duck out the back, Jack.

Shhhh, it's a secret – I'm not as extroverted as I might seem.