By way of helping you outta-towners get the geography here, you need to understand that Bassetts have been living in Oak Harbor since 1898, when Nahmy Bassett opened his grocery store. In 1996, we sold our Oak Harbor grocery store and my immediate family (my mom, dad, two brothers and I) moved about half an hour down the road to Port Clinton. Same county, all that. Oak Harbor is the location of the SUDL, and where I grew up 'till I was sixteen. Also, Toledo (where I went to law school and where I maintain an apartment and work in the two grocery stores) is about forty-five minutes from Oak Harbor. I say this all so you can help keep track of where I was as this glorious day (yesterday) progressed.

5:51 A.M.: I do not drive directly to the SUDL from my apartment in Toledo; instead, I decide (not on the spur of the moment) to do a little extra driving with the extra time I have to some places that have meaning to me. On my way down Sylvania Avenue, I am listening to "Strike Up The Band," sung by Tommy Tune, on my iPod. What a great, exciting way to start the day!

5:59 A.M.: First stop on the Pre-Results-Good-Cosmic-Dust Tour is for me to head down Monroe Street and go past the grocery store where I've been working for the past two months. I say a quiet thank you to my great-grandparents, both immigrants from Syria/Lebanon. When my great-grandfather died in 1930, he left my great-grandmother living in an apartment with one bedroom above a grocery store and seven children. Through her sacrifice, the grocery store prospered...to the point that we now have expanded into the Toledo market. I don't think they'd've ever believed it.

6:06 A.M.: I am supposed to be at the SUDL between 6:45 and 7. By rights, I should probably get on 475 now, but I decide I want to make a pretty decent run at one other spot. I go past the exit on Talmadge, and hang a left on Central Avenue.

6:10 A.M.: After taking a right on Secor, I cross Bancroft and turn left. I make a quick orbit through the University of Toledo College of Law parking lot. Did what I learn here help? I'll know soon.

6:16 A.M.: On 475, I'm not exactly poking along, but there are still drivers going past me. I want to know what in hellfire is so important to them at this hour of the morning. Nothing, I say!

6:25 A.M.: I think I should probably call Anonymous of the SUDL to let her know I'm running a little late, but, while I'm not feeling terribly nervous, just determined in a gritty sort of way, I'm also feeling incredibly like I don't want to talk to anyone, to share any information, and that speaking would require a lot of effort.

I don't call.

By the way, I opt to skip John Lennon's song "Instant Karma."

Instant Karma's gonna get you,
Gonna knock you right on your head
Better get yourself together,
Pretty soon you're gonna be dead.

Yeah, I don't need that.

6:45 A.M.: I get off the Ohio Turnpike at the Elmore exit.

6:57 A.M.: Although I am due at Anonymous' house in three minutes, and, in theory, the bar results could be released at that time (I later find out they basically are...at 7:01), I decide that (a) I need all that good cosmic dust and (b) the results probably won't come out till 7:30 or 8:00. I cannot fathom calling Anonymous.

6:59 A.M.: Entering Oak Harbor, I take a left on Locust Street and drive past my great-grandmother Bassett's old house. I turn towards the Oak Harbor Junior High School.

7:01 A.M.: I drive past Oak Harbor Junior High. In many ways, my eighth grade year was the happiest year of school ever. I was student council president, and implemented a program I'm proud of to this day that helped kids raise their grades. I'm listening to the instrumental trio version of "It Had To Be You" from "When Harry Met Sally."

7:03 A.M.: One of the great things about a small town is everything's close together. I'm now driving past R.C. Waters Elementary School, where I, well, went to elementary school. I'd forgotten the roof was curved.

7:05 A.M.: I don't have to ring the doorbell at the SUDL; Anonymous opens it by the time I'm on the porch. She was worried sick. I really am unable to say very much. (She later reports that when I walked in, I looked like I was going to throw up. I didn't feel that way -- even though I did have a bottle of Pepto-Bismol in tow. I visit the facilities.

7:07 A.M.: In Anonymous' living room, she sits down at the computer, clicks on the Firefox icon, and asks, "Where do I need to go?" I indicate I'M going to need to go there to pull up the results. I tell her I'm not quite ready to check. (BTW, I can honestly say I now understand the people that delayed checking their grades until they were all in...I always wondered how they could stand not knowing. I wasn't yet ready to check.) I want to do a blog post. Anonymous goes to the kitchen.

7:08 A.M.: I hit the button on my last R- post. Anonymous still in kitchen. Decide there is nothing to do but go to www.sconet.state.oh.us. (Gotta love our Supreme Court's easy-to-recall website! Even Marcia Mengel just told people to Google it.) Figure the results won't be up yet. Am prepared to wait until 8:00.

7:09 A.M.: I gasp and let out a yell of shock. There, at the top of the page, with a nifty little "NEW" icon. "COME HERE!" I yell to Anonymous. "What is it?" she asks, as she jogs in.

There is a box to type in my name. I do. Hit the enter button.

And my name and address appears.

I scream. Probably say, "YES!!!" Anonymous knows immediately. We hug. (She later accuses me of slapping her hard on the back.)

7:11 A.M.: I call Kylie, the only person in the world who answers her cell phone less than I. Leave her a message.

7:12 A.M.: "Time to wake up Precious," I declare. (Precious...also known as Laura...is Anonymous' daughter, going to college at Randolph Macon Womens' College in Lynchburg, Virginia.) I wake her up. Tell her.

7:13 A.M.: Next call is to Patricia. She is worried that I am calling at 7:13. Yeah, be worried, be afraid...I PASSED THE BAR!!!!

7:32 A.M.: I call Janet. She is, of course, delighted.

7:38 A.M.: And now, the fun begins.

OK, I haven't told my dad the date because he would have driven me nuts trying to find out whether I passed or not. And I want to tell him face-to-face. It's a pretty sure bet, I think, he's going to be in Port Clinton at his office. But, just to make sure, I've had Sue, our head HR person and my boss, tracking his Friday whereabouts all morning.

My phone rings. It's Sue. "You sound pretty happy," she says. I indicate that I am. Tell her I've passed.

My dad, it appears, is on his way to Toledo as we speak.

CRAPCRAPCRAPCRAPCRAPCRAPCRAPCRAPCRAP

I'm in Oak Harbor, and going to Port Clinton. To tell people.

And I want to tell him.

Face to face.

First.

7:39 A.M.: Call my dad. "Where are you?" I ask. He's in Elmore, which is between Oak Harbor and Toledo (in other words, not about to go past the SUDL.)

I need an excuse quick.

"Damn," I say. "I was going to have you pick something up at Anonymous' house. Is there any chance you could get it?"

He doesn't think so.

He asks what it is. I say it's some political papers. He laughs...because I'm a Democrat and a Republican. No, he can't make it. He's sure. He needs to get to Toledo; hasn't been there in too long, will throw whole schedule off.

OK, we're going back to the drawing board on how we tell Dad.

8:04 A.M.: Leave it to Lnze to be able to figure out whether I passed or not without me telling her. I get an email reading, "You passed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sweet! Congratulations!!!"

8:15 A.M.: I depart the SUDL for Port Clinton. I am headed for home to tell my mom.

8:24 A.M.: On the way home, I talk to my Uncle Tom, who was married to Jody, who I discussed in this post.

8:44 A.M.: At home, I tell my mom, who is, of course, quite excited. Discuss how to tell people I need to tell without it leaking to my dad. Speed is the key: Good news travels fast. And my grandpa -- who is notoriously bad at keeping a secret -- will be the last one I tell before leaving Oak Harbor to find my dad.

9:11 A.M.: I leave home for the courthouse, where I want to tell my coworkers for the past ten years that what I learned working with them helped me pass the bar.

9:17 A.M.: On the way there, I call Ellen.

9:20 A.M.: Once done with her, I call Michelle. (I ate lunch with Michelle and Ellen, who were #1 and #2 in our class. I can never remember which was which, I just remember it was one of the few times in my life I felt COMPLETELY intellectually inadequate.)

9:23 A.M.: I am at the courthouse...tell my boss...want to have lunch with him next week. The secretaries say that, as I do my private practice, they will be happy to catch some extra $$$ by typing appeals briefs for me. Sweet!

9:35 A.M.: I stop upstairs to tell our awesome clerk of courts that I passed.

9:44 A.M.: I am back on the road, heading back to Oak Harbor. I am not getting to hang out long because I know every minute that passes, there's more chance of someone telling my dad.

10:07 A.M.: What a stroke of good luck. I've been wondering whether I'd call my Aunt Nancy to let her know I passed. As it turns out, I have to sign in at Oak Harbor High School, where I have come to tell a former teacher, Mrs. Moenter, that I passed. When I do, I see my Aunt Nancy's name signed right above me. She's there to walk.

I place the 3x5 index card on a piece of string with the word VISITOR around my neck, and head off to find Aunt Nancy. I can hear her before I see her. "Mi-chael," she says, (she's the one who on Sunday asked me how long and I said, "very soon...) "what are YOU doing here?"

I tell her I came to tell her I passed the bar.

Screaming, joy, excitement. Classes at OHHS are probably distracted. I give her the same warning I've given everyone else not to tell people for another hour and a half or thereabouts. She says she's going out to lunch at the Oak Harbor Hotel at noon, so I'd better be quick because the whole town will know then. I promise to get the word out by then.

I go down, tell Mrs. Moenter. Glad I did that. Am back on my way.

(My biggest laugh is that Oak Harbor High School's principal is a guy named Mr. Thorbahn, the son of Mr. Thorbahn who was the principal when I was there.)

10:19 A.M.: The teacher I am closest to is Mrs. Bahnsen, who is now retired. She and her husband have had a dickens of a year over health issues (in fact, she is the friend who was having surgery same time as my grandma this August.) But she plans to make it to the swearing in ceremony! She's happy to see me. I'm happy to have stopped.

10:35 A.M.: I go to my grandparents', and I get a three-fer. Not only are my grandma and grandpa there, but so is Imogene. Imogene has been my grandma's cleaning lady since before I was born, and she worked for my parents for years and years and years. She keeps retiring and coming out of retirement to help my grandma.

My grandpa says, "Did you come to finish off the tuna noodle casserole from the other night?" "No," I say. "I came to tell you I passed the bar."

Much excitement, of course. I give my grandpa the exhortation. Then, hop in my car and head for Toledo. Moving fast enough to try to stay ahead of good news, but not so fast I'll be my first client. :)

10:45 A.M.: When I talked to my dad earlier this morning, he mentioned having lunch. I call his cel phone; he's not there. Beyond that, I need to know whether he's in Perrysburg or Sylvania.

It's also bothering me that I haven't posted to the blog yet, especially since Eve said she was staying up to see how things were going. I had said no later than eleven, but this thing with my dad had thrown a heckuva wrinkle into my plans.

10:49 A.M.: I call the Sylvania store. Evidence of my dad not seen.

10:53 A.M.: My dad calls. As it turns out, he's spent some time with Pastor Dick Powell, a dear old friend of ours, so he's had his cell phone off of him. I consider suggesting he visit a cloister next, but instead just arrange to meet him at the Sylvania store.

11:40 A.M.: Get to the store. The joke at the Port Clinton store has always been that if you want to find my dad, look in the wine department. He is something of a connoisseur -- NOT an alcoholic -- plus, they haven't had a wine manager in Port Clinton for years.

So, I get to the store and ask the manager where he is. We page him. He's in the wine department.

I find him back there and tell him, "You know, you're a great grocer, but you're a pain in the ass when it comes to tracking you down to tell you I passed the bar exam."

Said he wondered if something was up when I had asked him to go back to Carol's, but since I didn't push it, he didn't, either. (Apparently, if I'd have just said, "It means a lot to me to have you pick this stuff up," he'd have gone back. Sheesh.)

We decide to go to lunch.

11:55 A.M.: Issue email/post on blog that I PASSED THE BAR!!!!!!

12:20 P.M.: On my way down 475, I heard this sound, couldn't figure out what it was. Didn't think it was me. But now, as we're driving through Starlite Plaza, I hear it again. Call my dad, who's in the car behind me, and ask if I have a flat tire. In fact, I do. Decide to go to lunch, call Triple A from there.

It's a good thing I passed. Wouldn't it have been awful to fail and have a flat tire?

12:45 P.M.: Lunch is very good.

1:34 P.M.: I wait for the Triple A guy to show up while talking to Sue. Find out she enlisted Kim, our comptroller at the store and my cousin, to help. Talk to Kim. Triple A guy shows up.

1:39 P.M.: The last time I got a flat, it took them forty minutes to show up and two guys had a hard time figuring out how to get the spare out of the back of my car. It takes one guy ten minutes to show up and he gets the spare out of my car without complaint.

1:41 P.M.: I'm in the middle of saying something to the guy who's fixing my tire when the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee calls me on my cel phone to ask for money. It's the second time they've called me at a bad time, and the second time I've had to hang up on them.

1:45 P.M.: Passing the bar makes for good cheer. It's 40 degrees out and I am literally strolling up and down the parking lot, grinning like an idiot, waiting for my tire to be fixed, and loving life.

1:55 P.M.: My tire is fixed. I head home.

2:07 P.M.: This day couldn't get any better. No, wait, it can! I come home JUST as they start a press conference announcing the indictment of Dick Cheney's chief of staff. They held it till I could get comfortable, I think. ;)

7:30 P.M.: I go to Barry's Bagel for a baked potato.

8:00 P.M.: Talk to Laura, again. Remind her that now, she must not only call me Groceryman, but also Lawyerman.

9:00 P.M.: Watch a little of Larry King Live.

10:05 P.M.: Go to "lay down for a few minutes."

12:15 A.M.: Shut off the lights, say a quick prayer of thanks, and go to bed. Sleep for another 6 hours, and wake up after eight hours of sleep.

So, a little later today, I'm off to the Barnes & Noble in Ann Arbor! Need a cookbook. Need a book on advice for people who are about to be lawyers.

I'll explain how I'm going to put my law license to work for me and others later.

PS: The blogger gratefully acknowledges his cel phone, which records the exact time he makes phone calls, and thus allowed him to keep track of where he was when. ;)