If I would have to guess who was the happiest person to find out I was getting married, it would be easily, hands down, my grandmother.  She has urged me to join the married ranks since I was about 11 years old.  To her, marriage equals, unequivocally, happiness.  Since my wedding, our conversations have changed dramatically, and it is always wonderful to balance my own thoughts of marriage with her more traditional views of servantship marriage.

Her excitement is even more intensified because she knows Pedram’s family in Iran, and thinks very highly of them.  Which is why she put a little pressure on me to perform well as a wife.  When I tell her Pedram’s snoring keeps me awake, she reassures me that I married into a good family, and one day I won’t be able to sleep without hearing his snoring.  When I tell her that I miss my family, she tells me that she knows Pedram’s family, and they are good, and I should be happy with that.  Furthermore, she says repeatedly — “moms are good, dads are good, but husbands are the best!”.  When I tell her Pedram is moody, she tells me that his family are good people, and that I should cook him something delicious.

…etc, etc…

Until today.  When I called her this morning, she asked me if it is true that Pedram and I ride bicycles.  Yup, I told her.  After a few seconds of silence, she responds:

“Huh.  All this time I thought you married into this great family, but I can’t believe that they would make you bike everywhere.  Why don’t they get you a car like normal people?  What does your husband think about you having to ride a bike?  Don’t they know you are a princess?”  (okay, she didn’t say the last part, but it was implied)

And I am sure once we hung up the phone, she contacted her sources in Pedram’s family in Iran, to subtly mention to them our dire situation, and to see what she could do to help me attain that blissful happiness in marriage that she always promised me.  Because in her mind, bike-riding once you are married was a huge step down from driving a car while you are single.  And the best part of the conversation was that my grandmother was so distracted by the bike talk, that she didn’t even remember to quiz me on my performance as a wife.