I have an irrational love for the California missions despite sugar cube models and abuse of indiginous peoples. My favorate is the forlorn little San Miguel out in the middle of nowhere but right by Highway 101.
My world also not worthy of a photo. It is boxes everywhere, in various states of pack and unpack, because we moved. Gad, what a mess. I ask myself, "What were we thinking?" and then I remember, oh, right, detached house: play piano whenever you feel like it and BIG Garage: all the bikes in there and room for a car too!
For a while it seemed like that Gift of the Magi story, because my hands hurt so much from carrying things and banging around the house that I couldn't even think of playing piano, and then the garage is so full of stuff that belongs elsewhere that there was no hope of bikes living thereat all, but nevermind. As surely as time heals all things, we'll get moved in.
Really, it will be a great place.
Eventually.
Come visit, but not yet.
The last place I lived, when I moved in I planned for it to be short term, and I was there for 16 years.
Anyone need a condo in Salt Lake City? Careful though--it might work out way better than you imagine!