From JuJu with Love

I started packing for Japan today.

In my 20s, this would have taken about 15 minutes.
A carry-on. A few outfits. Done.

Now?

Now I apparently travel like I’m permanently relocating.

Because this trip is not just a trip. It’s a production.

First, there’s the cruise.
Which means not just casual daytime clothes, but also dinners… and two formal nights.

Two.

As in… I need to look like a functioning adult who owns something other than Athleisure and Michigan t-shirts.

Then there are the non-negotiables.

My Mahjong set. (Sea days are not for amateurs.)
My Michigan flag. (Go Blue travels globally.)
And… Helene.

Helene cannot come on this trip.
So naturally, she sent a giant Styrofoam head of herself so we can take her with us.

Not a small cutout.
Not a cute little Flat Stanley situation.

A. Giant. Styrofoam. Head.

I haven’t even gotten to TSA yet, but I already feel like I owe someone an explanation.

“Ma’am, is this your bag?”
“Yes.”
“And… this?”
“That’s Helene. She’s joining us in spirit.” “She doesn’t fit in the overhead compartment.”

Totally normal.

Meanwhile, I’m staring at my suitcase, which—just to keep things interesting—has a 50-pound weight limit.

Fifty pounds.

For:

• Everyday walking around Japan clothes
• Cruise outfits
• Two formal nights
• A Mahjong set
• A Michigan flag
• And a full human head

Seems reasonable.

So now I’m playing suitcase Tetris.

I’ve convinced myself I can bring one “hero” outfit for formal nights and just rotate jewelry like anyone is paying attention.

I’ve negotiated my shoes down to two pairs, which feels like a personal achievement.

And I’ve accepted that Helene is no longer an “extra item.”

She is, at this point, a travel companion.

Once I somehow zip this suitcase closed, I get to move on to phase two:

Packing for Maizey.

Packing for Maizey requires strategy.

I don’t even let her see the suitcase anymore.

If she spots it, the anxiety starts immediately—following me from room to room like she’s already been abandoned.

So now I wait until she’s at the groomer to pack, then hide the suitcases in the guest room like I’m running some kind of undercover operation.

She won’t see them until the morning we leave.

At which point…
all bets are off.

But while I may be limited to one 50-pound suitcase,
my emotional support sled dog doodle will be traveling with:

• Her crate
• Her bed
• Her toys
• Her food
• A peanut butter Kong (non-negotiable)
• And a thunder shirt… just in case

She does not travel lightly.

And honestly? Neither do I anymore.

Somewhere along the way, travel stopped being about packing less…
and started being about bringing the things—and the people (even in Styrofoam form)—that make the trip more fun.

Worst case scenario?

I wear the same outfit every day.

But Helene will be there.

Mahjong will be played.

The Michigan flag will fly.

And honestly… that sounds like a pretty perfect trip.

And if that means explaining a giant foam head to TSA?

Well…

That just sounds like another story waiting to happen.

More stories like this (and whatever happens when I try to get this through TSA)… at From Juju with Love 💙