Sarah Palin is leaving office early to run for president.

Mark Sanford's trying to fall back in love with his wife.

And Arnold's signing IOUs.

In comparison, even in his absence, Jon Huntsman Jr. looks comfortingly stable.

He went AWOL nearly two months ago. President Barack Obama plucked the Beehive State moderate from rising stardom in the Republican Party and plugged him in as ambassador to China. Huntsman's barely been seen or heard of since; he says he's preparing for his Senate Foreign Relations hearing.

With his silence, it would be easy to forget him. Other governors had more time, more edifices, more budget cuts and taxes to remember them by. With Huntsman, the list of accomplishments is more ethereal.

"His personality and stance on issues meshed with a great number of people in the state," says Kelly Patterson, a Brigham Young University political science professor. "He'll be remembered for his style."

Style is good and all. But what is becoming clear -- painfully clear -- as we watch Gary not-ready-for-prime-time Herbert prematurely flex his gubernatorial muscles is the unintended consequences of Huntsman's political expediency and ambition.

Five years ago, he was little more than the jet-setting son of billionaire industrialist Jon Huntsman Sr. But the young guy with the famous name and family fortune cannily worked the system. He seduced the press with his worn leather belt and shoes, motocross bike and encyclopedic knowledge of pop music. He was cool. He wooed jumpy Republican convention delegates when he tied his fortunes to a popular conservative -- the former Utah County commissioner. And in the end, the cool upstart slipped past politicians who had paid their dues and waited their turns.

It was brilliant political strategy and a hint of things to come.

A sophisticated internationalist, Huntsman was determined to put his backwater hometown on the map, luring CEOs and tourists alike. In a little more than four years, he pressured environmentalists and state road engineers to compromise on the Legacy Highway, simplified the state income tax, pumped cash for science and math education into public schools and pulled Utah's liquor laws out of the late-night joke pile. And he launched a trendy 4/10 schedule his office insists state workers really like.

"He's been a powerful and consistent advocate for Utah," says Patterson.

At the same time, he seemed to chafe at the limits of his political affiliation, hemming and hawing about gay rights, accepting the science of global warming and capping EnergySolutions' radioactive waste dump. Once safely re-elected, the depth of Huntsman's discontent showed as he bushwhacked a new moderate wing for his party, puddle-jumped primary states and suggested civil unions might be allowed under Utah's gay marriage ban. The Washington Post started grouping him with Palin and Sanford as a 2012 contender.

Then, the president called.

For critics, Huntsman's fade-out is good timing. A few state government veterans call him the "Good Time Governor," or "Governor Good Hair." They figure he doesn't have the stomach or the spine for the fight: He dumped his first chief of staff, Jason Chaffetz, when he offended lawmakers. He signed Utah's immigrant-crackdown bill, passing the buck to the feds by saying it would help pressure Congress to act on the national issue. And he gutted his own ethics commission after legislators complained.

"Governor Huntsman did less with more than any other Utah governor," says Bob Springmeyer, Huntsman's 2008 Democratic challenger. "I would have liked to see him use his extraordinarily high approval rating and stand up to the Republican Legislature on issues like vouchers, education funding and ethics reform.

"That being said, he was still the best Democrat we've had in the Governor's office since Scott Matheson."

So in the end what could be Huntsman's real legacy is his unwitting launch of the careers of two diehard conservatives: Chaffetz and Herbert.