Disaster has struck.

Well, not real disaster, but it certainly is "disastrous" to me. It's wedding-related (as you may have guessed). The place we picked to have our wedding, as seen here, decided to become a drug rehab center instead of reception center. No, I'm not kidding. Now we can't have our wedding there AT ALL. Two and a half months before the event, and we're back at square one. Please (I'm reaching out to all you Utahans) enlighten me with any suggestions you may have. Keep in mind, our wedding is on a Saturday in the middle of this summer. Here are the must-haves:

• alcohol permitted 
• preferably northern Utah area (I love mountains)
• outdoor ceremony area
• a lush area big enough for 50 guests
• BBQ accommodations 
• we'd like to do our own food (we don't wanna be forced into using caterers)  

I'm not opposed to a pretty backyard or park-like setting. The wedding we have in mind is super casual, a bit whimsical, simple, rustic, nature-inspired but above all, fun. Help us.
Thank you.

What? I'm not accident prone.

So last night was curry night. We'd both been looking forward to some delicious homemade Indian food. Chris left to go get a car part and I started slaving away at the stove. It was a quiet, pleasant little evening. Little did I know, the night was about to take a nasty turn, then crash, then burn.
Things that went wrong:

1. I started to boil some water for the basmati rice—but something smelled funny. I noticed there was crap from the night before, smoking beneath the burner. I turned the stove off (mind you, it had only been on for about 15 seconds) and took out the burner and silver thingy (with oven mitts). It took me a couple minutes to get it clean, so I assumed the burner would have cooled off. I grabbed it with all five fingers on my left hand, realized it was burning me, then threw it (slow but hard reflexes) into the sink. Oh and it siiiizzzzllllleeedd when it landed; it was HOTT. My hand was stinging to the point of tears.

2. I wrapped a wet paper towel on my hand and continued cooking. The naan in the oven wasn't baking fast enough, so I turned the temp up to 450. A minute later it was black.
3. The smoke alarm went off and I had no clue how to turn it off—plus wasn't tall enough to reach it anyway. I took the bread outside to let it finish smoking.

4. The basmati rice overcooked because I was taking care of burnt naan. So it turned out moist and mushy.

5. Once the naan cooled enough to be thrown away, I brought it inside and threw it in the garbage. But then the garbage tipped over. Crumbs everywhere.

6. When I bent down to pick up the spilled garbage, I set my 7UP on the counter and it magically jumped right back off…landing hard at my feet, spraying pop all over the walls, my rug, into the living room and on the tile. My rug was drenched. My pajama pants, drenched. My slippers, sticky and wet.

Chris came home to a disastrous house, the smell of burning skin and naan, and a broken gf. After all that, the curry didn't even taste right. What a waste! Anyway, after I calmed down, regained my composure and figured out what I did wrong with the curry, we were able to laugh about the night. He promised he'd make the curry for me next time. It was obviously too big of a task for me.
He got out the camera because he thought it was funny we used all the band aids in the house bandaging up my hand. Today my hand feels better…although I am missing fingerprints on all five fingers. Coworkers tried to encourage me to commit a crime, but I don't usually give in to peer pressure.

He kept following me around with the camera...he wanted several pictures to remember this happy day.