I often daydream. My husband likes to call it "having goals". I hate to burst his bubble--no, really, I am day dreaming.

While habitually scanning the updates of Facebook at lunch, I came across a post by a local newspaper: What's your Dream Job - Food Critic? It's a contest. You're to submit a paragraph discussing why you'd be great as a food critic and why you'd like sit down with a real food critic to see what he or she does on a daily basis.

I often daydream about doing fantastic other jobs. Don't get me wrong, there are some of those days that being a lawyer is just, well, swell. No, really, I'm not being sarcastic here. But there certainly are other times when being the fashion designer for Gucci or the stylist for Madonna would be a lot more fun. Secretly, I'd also love to be a pastry chef and own my own Patisserie with the most decadently delightful chocolate croissants and creamy dreamy fruit tarts. Heaven. Other days I'd love to have a corner flower shop in the Hamptons with clients like the Barefoot Contessa and Martha Stewart.

So, of course I entered the paper's contest. Here's my paragraph:

Food and I have shared a passionate, almost sexually charged, tumultuous, heated and confused relationship for quite some time. Within the last two years or so, it seems that we’ve gotten, dare I say it—serious. We’re exclusive, even if we sometimes fight too much. Admittedly, I expect the moon and the stars from my Food,  to have my taste buds explode with happiness, to have my tongue bathed in richness and bold flavor. Sometimes, however, I am so dreadfully disappointed with Food’s effort. All too often, I feel as if it’s just me in this relationship and that Food is not living up  to my expectations. Being able to sit down with a Food critic would be cathartic and therapeutic. I would learn how to judge certain Food’s attributes, see the good and properly judge/adjust the bad. Overall, I’d like to know how to speak with my Food so that my Food can provide me with what I need—and hopefully, maybe somewhere down the line if Food and I don’t work out, someone else will have the pleasure of knowing the Food that I once came to love.

I'm not delusional and don't expect to win--but writing the submission piece was pleasurable enough on this furnace-like day.