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Word: moppings (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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Usage:

...fire was finally brought under control at 10:30 p.m., and mop-up operations will continue today...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: General Alarm Fire Levels Meat Plant | 4/15/1963 | See Source »

...saws of critics with equal impunity. Apart from being a cross-country box-office sellout, it is already accentuating a curious trend in haircuts. Hip barbers are clipping the tykes of unwary parents in an Oliver-styled fashion known as the "British boy cut" (low bangs in front, thick mop in back), and many a little boy will soon look rather like a wistful needle in a haystack...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Theater: Oliver Twisted | 1/11/1963 | See Source »

...there is another kind of Christmas trauma that results in what might be called Santa Claustrophobia. Many a mop pet chickens out of the department store line to see Santa-the big red man with the vast white beard seems like God him self and not every adult would be in a hurry to climb onto His lap. One Victoria, B.C., housewife organized a protest when a store had Santa Claus arriving in a helicopter, only to be followed three days later by a rival store's Santa landing by parachute. Confused her children hopelessly she said, and made...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Modern Living: The Blight Before Christmas | 12/21/1962 | See Source »

...because he was convinced that the sun's ultraviolet light beating into the skull would destroy the ability to distinguish between nuances of grey; he ordered that the friendly spiders which abounded in his studio should not be disturbed (the maids hid behind the coal pile the mop used for brushing down spiderwebs). He was a patient and humorous father; explaining the meaning of duty to his son, he would recall his own boyhood as a tailor's son. "I had to shell green peas and I loathed it. But I knew that it was part...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Sanity and Sun | 11/9/1962 | See Source »

Down to Work. Stuarti wraps up all this dolcezza in what he calls his "there are no strangers, only friends I haven't met" approach. A slender, handsome, loosely jointed man with a wild mop of brown hair, he woos his audiences with a wide assortment of audio-visual aids: a nifty little tango step, a flinging of the arms, a flexing of the knees, and a sort of deep lumbar lean that threatens to topple him over backward. He may drift around the room, mike in hand, gazing smokily into the eyes of ringside ladies, who invariably gaze...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Music: Thatza My Boy | 9/7/1962 | See Source »

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