15 minutes South of St. George, Exit 22

Welcome to Siver Reef.... the closest ghost town. Let me rephrase that, ghost town in which there are people building new houses, therefore not being a ghost town anymore.
Dylan and I are trying to make the most of St. George while we are here, so on the weekends we like to do fun things such as explore. We found this cute little ghost town online, filled with pictures of old mine shafts, houses, a cute little church, and a creepy cemetary. We were so excited to explore, and when we got there what did we find?
That's right, a new housing development. What a load of crap. The museum was abandoned, but don't worry we got it unlocked and looked around inside anyways.




Falling down a mine shaft. Don't worry, we made it out alive.
Dylan is so brave. He went down before me to make sure there were no bandits or cowboys to harass me. What a great husband.

Baby Steps

Not to justify myself, but tonight I made a BIG improvement. Usually, Tuesday is Biggest Loser Night. Translation= I sit on the couch in my scrubs, eat dinner and dessert while in the same position, and do not work out...that's right ironic since I am watching people work their little butts off. I am obsessed with this show, and I can't miss a minute of it, so somehow working out and taking care of myself don't seem to fit in between the time I get home from work and the time this epic show starts. But tonight, I worked out BEFORE the show, and I even ate a sugar free healthy choice bar for desert:)

Marth Stewart would not be proud.

Since starting college, I have looked at myself as being very independent in the kitchen. I was the go-to girl for domestic things. I guided my BFF neighbors on nutrition and calorie counting, made Rachel Rays 30 minute meals look inconvenient with my 20 minute masterpieces made for one, and even taught a dear sweet roomate how to boil water (love ya Katie). I have not lost my touch since being married, I am more domestic than ever before. The meals I have created have quite suprised myself even. There are still no excuses for last week. My kitchen was a war zone for me. The first disaster was over a dish full of MINT BROWNIES. For any one who has made these delectable delights you will know the time it takes to make them. First you bake the brownies, then cool in the fridge. Then you make the icing, then cool in the fridge again. Then you make the chocolate icing, then cool AGAIN in the fridge. It is quite the process, and I was on the second again in the fridge when I opened the door to this:

Yes, brownies on my floor, brow brownies on the floor.
I was devastated, Dylan was devastated. We were going to dinner at a friends house, and all we had left to take was chips and dip, pathetic.

My next mishap was only a few days later. It was Wednesday, my early day from work, my happy day. I was opening a harmless can of chicken, a food most "fake vegetarians I don't eat red meat" will even eat, when I saw red blood which I knew was not from the can o' bird. I sliced my knuckle on a can of chicken, and had to return back to work to get stitches.




My life is falling apart, well atleast my casserole dishes and flesh are.

Marriage is about.....

Compromise. Like when I agree to write Dylan's Communications Essay so we can go to Cafe Rio this weekend. Sounds like a good deal to me :)