If it takes a village –with or without the "i" -- to raise a child, then it takes a veritable planet to minister to the needs of writer Laurie Yarnell's fussy suburban New York family. Her core supporting cast of characters includes an annoyingly thin yet Double Stuff Oreo-addicted husband, two often exasperating but usually entertaining offspring (a daughter and son old enough to disown her if she mentions them by name here), two more (much nicer-to-her) kids of the canine variety, and five assorted fragile salt water fish, one whose poisonous sting recently sent her should-have-known-better-than-to-stick-his-hand-into-the-tank spouse by ambulance to a regional toxin control ER (don't ask). When not pursuing a hard-hitting investigative journalism career for an upscale lifestyle magazine (Where can one snag Dior at discount? How best to Botox?), she blogs about her life while propped up in bed with her laptop on her knees and her favorite furry family members drooling all over her fuzzy slippers.

Warning: Laurie Yarnell does not now –nor has she ever -- owned a mini-van. And her kids played soccer for about a minute-and-a-half. But she is funny, interesting, engaging, thought-provoking, and above all, charmingly modest.