Moon Rising

I was the original girl workaholic—taking a motley medley of jobs as soon as I could, in any place that would take me. I remember the stink of the mimeograph machine at a life insurance company. The presents I failed to wrap well at The Mole Hole, a Hilton Head gift shop. The catering gig and the library shelves at the University of Pennsylvania. I was working up through my sixth hour of labor, and whenever my baby slept I was back at the machine, spooling through the corporate newsletters I