Last summer on a trip to Maine we stumbled upon a gem of a thrift store where I found stacks of these vintage “Children’s Activities” magazines from 1940. It literally makes my teeth hurt that I didn’t buy them all. (Does this phenomenon affect anyone else? Deep regret=dental discomfort?) But luckily I did buy two, and every page is a treat.
High-five to the cement calligrapher responsible for the amazing typography scratched into the sidewalk we discovered on a walk in Cobble Hill. I salute you.
P.S. Caught Ivy taking a permanent marker to my laptop. I guess it gets confusing when your mom swoons over graffiti and then shuts down your Sharpie project.