Yeah, so at the media hotel this morning there they were, on the buffet table (a.k.a. the feeding trough), eggs benedict. I steered clear. At my age, c’mon. They didn’t look like these at the right, but I was convinced the hotel set them out to honor His Holiness. The server was puzzled when I inquired. No, we have them every weekday, she said, as if I were a stoner. (No, ma’am, it’s white wine on the road.) Well, okay. But given all the other papal paraphrenalia out there–especially mitred cakes for his birthday today and the like–it was an honest question. Maybe the pope got eggs like this for breakfast. It is his 81st birthday.

Speaking of his birthday, the kids singing “Happy Birthday” in German to the pope this morning as he emerged from the Vatican embassy where he is staying provided the absolute “awshucks” moment of the day. Cute as can be. Especially when someone in the crowd yelled out, “Happy Birthday, Pope.”
Reminded me of the story of the great athlete Jim Thorpe, receiving medals from Gustav V of Sweden at the 1912 Olympics in Sweden, saying, “Thanks, King.”