What a bombshell.
But the personal adventures of SC leaders has kept things interesting for years. It was just three years ago when then-South Carolina Treasurer,
Thomas Ravenel, who had a fondness for the the phrase "that's just how I roll", was federally indicted on charges of dealing cocaine and forced to resign. That's how he rolled.
Before that, we had
Lt. Governor Andre Bauer and his racy antics. I say "racy" literally -- Bachelor Bauer, who's known around SC as a sometimes-freewheelin' ladies man, got caught speeding in his Beemer at more than 100 m.p.h but avoided any official reprimands by using the state radio installed in his state vehicle to talk troopers into letting him go. Shortly thereafter, he accidentally crashed his single engine plane into the woods of Upstate South Carolina.
The interesting twist in all of this is that the beneficiary of the Sanford scandal may just BE Andre Bauer. He's actually the one who South Carolinians would most expect to be having an illicit affair with an Argentinian woman.
Mr. Stiles's employer asked him to return to Houston after the legislative session ended. Neither of us thought that was very cool, especially considering it wouldn't have been much skin off their hides to let him stay in the paper's Austin bureau.
After dating for nearly four years separated by long car drives or thousand mile flights, we finally got a chance in January to share the same zip code. Then, Stiles' bosses wanted him back.
He went back today, as requested. But in a twist,
he resigned. His four years at
The Chronicle have allowed him to shine as a reporter, break stories that made people's lives better, and expose issues that allowed readers to better know their community. It's the mark of the man I love. But because we love each other, it's way past time for us to live our lives without the separation of time and distance.
After his final two weeks is over, we will begin an exciting journey together as journalists. But as they teach you in television, you gotta save some of the story for next time.
Just returned from a weekend jaunt to Philadelphia, home of the most historic room in the most historic square mile in America. (That's what our tour guide at Independence Hall told us, anyway.)
Six years after graduating from college, I went to visit my senior year roommate, Fiscus. We were joined by my matchmaker and BFF Sudeep, who has been generally disapproving of my ways since the day I met him.
We ate and drank our way around Philly, winding up at a place called Jim's for cheesesteaks. (My other New England friends sent suggestions ranging from Pat's to some random place in New Jersey, so next time we'll hit up a different locale.)
I really wanted to try a duck salad at a place called Standard Tap, but was talked out of it by, of course, my disapproving friend mentioned above.
Drinking may be my only disappointment - the alcoholic drinks lacked enough of that familiar taste of... alcohol. In the randomly sampled bars we tried, anyway. I suspect there is a reason Austin is consistently-ranked as
the hardest drinking city in America... the bartenders generous pourers.
Since Stiles did not come, I was charged with finding him a Benjamin Franklin bobblehead doll. I failed. Sorry. Freedom isn't free. (I have no idea what that means, it just sounds nice.)
