Swearing Oaths

In the shadow of Westminster Abbey last week, it fell to me to swear by Almighty God that I knew of no reason why Eric and I should not marry.

Minutes before, I had signed an Oath written in language that must have been used since the 16th century. "She maketh Oath that she believeth there is no impediment of Kindred or Alliance or of any other Suit commenced in any Court to bar or hinder the proceedings of the said intended marriage AND PRAYED a Licence to solemnize the same between the hours of eight in the forenoon and six in the afternoon in the Chapel of Magdalene College..."

So we have completed the first of several hurdles for our wedding (and one previewed in an earlier post). We knocked out some of the logistical stuff, too, while we were in Blighty, meeting with a photographer, a cakemaker, a DJ and a florist.

While there is no doubt that there is much pleasure in working out such details, they are often a distraction from the task in hand. Job hunting is proving even trickier than I had anticipated.

It is three months to the day since I moved from New York, and it seems unlikely that I will be employed before Christmas (barring a Hollywood-style fairy intervention). The very promising leads I was pursuing before I left for England have gone suspiciously quiet. Current statistics suggest that it may be at least a further three months before I command a paycheck. Judging by the experiences detailed in the Wall Street Journal blog about professionals looking for work, it also seems that any new job may not pay as well as the one I left behind - a depressing if pragmatic fact.

The irony is that during this time "between roles" I have been hiking, blogging, nurtured my stock portfolio, gone regularly to the gym, volunteered and reconnected with old friends - all things which I often failed to do as a wage slave. Yet the fact remains that much as I enjoy these activities, there is always a gnawing worry in the back of my mind that I should be doing more to pursue my dream job. And as time ticks by, with a house purchase imminent, and a wedding to pay for, the pressure to settle for something less than stellar increases.

At some point in the future, I may cave to that pressure. But with oaths on the brain, I am ready to swear this one: Despite the dire state of the economy, I believe there is a fabulous job out there with my name on it. Given the number of hours that we spend working ("married to the job"), it makes sense to me to take some time to find the right one...