Word: glowed
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...boyish but impotent husband Tom off to work at the Fernwood auto plant and settled down to watch the soaps than her sister, Cathy, drops by. "Say," observes Cathy, "your floors have waxy yellow buildup." A stunned Mary replies: "But the can says it's a lovely even glow." Cathy knows what the matter...
...networks to deflect mounting protests, in and out of Congress, about the rising tide of TV violence. Criticism peaked last fall when NBC aired at 8 p.m. a seamy story (Born Innocent) about a rebel teen-ager who was raped with a broom handle. With a glow of virtue, the networks "voluntarily" agreed to police themselves with their own censors and wrote into the National Association of Broadcasters' television code what amounts to a rule clearly intended to ban sex and violence from the air between 7 and 9. For audiences this simply means that most cops and robbers...
...walk back to Peg's picking my way through the blackness with a load tread and louder whistle so Peg would hear me loud and clear and not blast me when, stepping onto his porch, his door popped open a crack and he stood naked in the glow, his hands hidden as I told him we'd be on his property a while longer, if it suited him. Briggs and I hadn't come to Pegleg Mac's to cruise his rutted road, the night's sweat dripping off the Delac as she heaved in the ruts, looking...
...looked like the aftermath of a Three Stooges pie-throwing party. The sun was making headway against all the stickiness, washing it smooth with the pale glow of pink lemonade. You hardly notice skies around Cambridge: all spring means is that you pick your eyes up from the slush and mud puddles and occasional faces where they've rested all winter, and look at the trees now and then. But when you're on a ship in the South Atlantic the sky makes your whole world because it blends with the sea out there at infinity. You become...
...Locust. "The violet hush of twilight was descending over Los Angeles as my hostess, Violet Hush, and I left its suburbs headed toward Hollywood. In the distance a glow of huge piles of burning motion picture scripts lit up the sky. The crisp tang of frying writers and directors whetted my appetite. How good it was to be alive, I thought, inhaling deep lungfuls of carbon monoxide... A suttee was in progress by the road side... Violet and I elbowed our way through the crowd. An enormous funeral pyre composed of thousands of feet of film and scripts drenched with...