Of course I expected the world -- and my daughters -- to change. It's nearly thirty years since I passed on. Still, I hardly recognize the place. Day spas on every corner. Miniature telephones. And such racy television programs. Though I do love that "Sex and the City."

And yet, some things never change. Stubbornness. Pettiness. Families who fight. Like mine. Especially my older daughter, Shelby.

She stopped speaking to the family. Hasn't been home in years. And it's not as if her romantic life is so great, either. She may be this hot-shot journalist, but she's still thirty-eight and as single as a sock in the dryer.

Enough is enough, I thought. There must be a way to get her to come home. Make nice with her father. Pal around with her adoring sister. Maybe even reunite with that little neighbor boy she never stopped loving.

One tiny problem. We've been warned about tinkering with divine intervention. But here's a universal truth every mother in the afterlife knows. Whether dead or alive, the job never ends. So, my darling Shelby, that wake-up call YOU hear tomorrow morning? It's not the Ritz. Just a little help from above.

In Mindy's yoga-obsessed, thirty-is-the-new-wife neighborhood, every day is a battle between Dunkin' Donuts, her jaws-of-life jeans, and Beth Diamond, the self-absorbed sancti-mommy next door who looks sixteen from the back. So much for sharing the chores, the stores, and the occasional mischief to rival Wisteria Lane.

It's another day, another dilemma until Beth's marriage becomes fodder on Facebook. Suddenly the Ivy League blonde needs to be "friended," and Mindy is the last mom standing. Together they take on hormones and hunger, family feuds and fidelity, and a harrowing journey that spills the truth about an unplanned pregnancy and a seventy-year-old miracle that altered their fates forever.

"Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead" is a hilarious, stirring romp over fences and defenses that begs the question, what did you do to deserve living next door to a crazy woman? Sometimes it's worth finding out.