Apparently, I am a Matron

A few weeks ago, I was the "matron-of-honor" in one of my best friend's weddings. Doesn't "matron" sound like a nice, portly 65 year old? Cause that's how I felt. Not to mention that I was the only bridesmaid (er, brides-matron) with flats instead of heels. Old I tell you.

Other than feeling old, the wedding was just delightful. My friend Gini was a beautiful bride. It helps that she is the most creative, encouraging, loving person ever. And I know this well because because we lived together for 2 years. Without a single fight, or even a disagreement really. It helps that she likes the yellow and green sour patch kids and I like the orange and red ones. A match made in heaven.

Here is the lovely couple.
I told you she's creative: she had the bridesmaids wear black dresses with all different color shoes. Like I mentioned, my shoes didn't make the cut for this picture because they're flats. Lame.
My husband and me at the wedding. Isn't he so special? And in need of a hair cut?
This is the oh-so-much-younger MAID of honor and I giving our "please don't make us give the toast in front of all these people" looks.
Gini's sweet parents watching her first dance as a married woman.
If you take a look at how they decorated their getaway car, you'll see why she's a girl after my own heart. . . diet coke cans galore.
And they're off to Hawaii. I'm not jealous. Ok, maybe a little.