Previously my roommates and I had agreed that we would automatically have a party whatever day the new pope was elected, so the first thing I did on seeing the white smoke was send out emails, texts, and Facebook messages: "POPE PARTY AT MY HOUSE TONIGHT!!!"
A small crowd of us gathered for "Pope Francis cake" (aka a strawberry and whipped cream cake I picked up at the grocery store), mugs of hot chocolate spiked with Irish cream, chips and salsa, cookies, and whatever other snacks Colleen and I found lying around the kitchen. Guests brought Argentinian wine (clever) and craft beers, and one couple brought their two adorable children. The three-year-old girl looked up at me very seriously and asked as I took her coat, "Did you hear the news? There's a new pope." Thank you, dear, that's why we're having this party.
It wasn't quite as crazy epic as the neighborhood party my mum threw in 2005, when she got the grocery-store ladies to write "Habemus papam!" on a sheet cake. But we toasted to the new pope, discussed his name at length, and shared what we know of his background. We even had a Baptist friend stop by, in a sweet gesture of ecumenism, to congratulate us partying Catholics (and drink with us, of course).
What a lovely, lovely day yesterday was. I can't wait to get to know our new pope—and to meet him for a little while on our honeymoon in May.
And the rest of the week is shaping up to be just as good—Frank is driving down to DC for his spring break, and this weekend we're flying to Miami for the family bridal shower. I'm counting down the hours til he gets here!