Roast turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, cornbread stuffing, cranberries, cinnamon rolls with thick sweet icing, candied carrots, homemade apple, cherry, and pumpkin pies with vanilla bean ice cream Thanksgiving 1988 and I made everything the old fashioned way with my own two hands in our tiny apartment. It was a lot of food and I had gotten up early to start. I loved cooking back then. We had invited a friend over so it was a feast for three. The kitchen looked like a mini tornado touched down in it but the food was delicious. I had been up early cooking and after we ate, we settled down to watch a movie and relax on the couches in a food coma. About half way into the movie, my husband suddenly sprang up and began yelling at us.He had that crazed black demon look and was screaming about the place being an F…ing mess. He kicked whatever object was in his path and stomped into the kitchen. He carelessly handled the dishes, throwing them in the sink, while the water ran full blast.He stood in the kitchen muttering in his criminal voice, glaring at us with his angry eyes. His friend had stayed the previous night and was making an attempt to fold the blankets that had been heaped over a chair while trying to calm him. ” It’s okay, we will help you clean up, relax, it’s Thanksgiving.” We both knew it was futile. There was nothing we could say or do to snap him out of it. He broke a glass in the sink and that made him angrier. His friend thanked me for feeding him, apologized, and bailed. I understood. It’s just horrible to be around and he wasn’t married to him. The only thing I could do was what I always did. Help clean, talk to him quietly, agree, and apologize. It lasted a few hours, then it was his turn to apologize. Same old thing. I’m sorry a thousand ways.He sure did know how to ruin a holiday but, at least the kitchen got cleaned.