The New York Times Magazine last week ran a long article pondering the value of the extended young adulthood that's been granted to my generation.

The piece dealt with the well-documented increase in the average marrying age, the growing tendency for kids to live with their parents well into their 20s or 30s, and the general feeling among young adults that they haven't really grown up by age 25 or 30. The writer's thesis, in very broad strokes, was that if this period of "emerging adulthood" is indeed a new human developmental period, as some sociologists and pyschologists argue, then it ought to be treated as such and accepted. But if it's not -- if it's just a bunch of 20-something Peter Pans rendered aimless by society's coddling -- then it's something to be wary of.

It's an interesting question, one the piece addresses objectively and artfully. But it's not what I'm writing about. Your Indoorsman cares not for the broader sociological implications of "emerging adulthood." What I care about, with a self-centeredness they say is typical of my age and generation, is how I myself fit this paradigm.

In other words: Have I grown up?

Let's have a look at the evidence, starting with evidence in favor of me being a grown-up:

* Except for the two months or so it took to find my first job, I never moved back in with my parents after college. I can see the appeal though; those two months were great. I'd wake up, send out some job applications, make daiquiris and sit on the deck reading all day. I wonder if they'd take me back now.

* I have a steady job with benefits and am financially independent. I've even got my student loans (nearly) paid off.

* I am 32 years old, which for past generations was the only adulthood indicator I'd have needed. In 1950, a guy had a 12-year-old kid and a house in the suburbs by the time he was 32. Hell, I'd be 10 years from retirement as a 32-year-old in 1950. "Gold watch time, boyos! Let's have a bottle of Stroh's down at the bowling alley!"

Now, the case against:

* On average, I eat frozen pizza at least twice a week (usually cooking it first).

* The decorating theme of my apartment is "blank walls with rock 'n' roll posters." This is the same theme I had when I was 15, right after I graduated from "blank walls with sports posters." They're framed these days, but still.

* I don't have a wife, and I don't have kids. This is the big one. The clearest indicator of adulthood -- aside from a sudden urge to wear Bermuda shorts and Hawaiian shirts -- is starting one's own family. I'm nowhere near there, which surely comes as a relief to school district personnel throughout Yakima.

I'm still not sure whether to consider myself an "emerging adult" or an adult in full bloom. I guess a case could be made either way. Who's got time to worry about that, anyway? There's work to do and, later, a bottle of Stroh's down at the bowling alley.

-- The Indoorsman